


Crawfish Tango

by AnonGrimm



Series: Equilibrium: of Cruelty and Pain (Sabretooth) [10]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Sabretooth aka Victor Creed (Marvel Comics), X-Men (Comicverse)
Genre: "Foul" Language, Alcohol, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Breathplay, Consensual sweet homosexual sex - whaaat? Wild I know..., Edgeplay, F/M, Fear of Death, Felching, Fluff and Angst, Graphic Sex, Graphic Slash Sex, IronTooth - Freeform, M/M, Male Homosexuality, Misogyny, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Palladium Poisoning, Past Trauma memories, Sexism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-05-14 05:12:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 31,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14763248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnonGrimm/pseuds/AnonGrimm
Summary: Victor and Tony run into each other on the job and discover they are after the same mark. Victor is supposed to protect the man due to losing a bet, while Tony wants to turn him over to SHIELD. Neither of them wants to fight each other. As they try to work it out, things get hairier when SHIELD turns up uninvited. A compromise may be in order. Afterward, Tony plans to make it up to Victor, but his advancing palladium poisoning takes a toll on their time together as their fledgling trust is tested.





	1. Volcado

**Author's Note:**

> Please do not post this story anywhere without the author’s permission. Thanks. Feedback and constructive critiques are welcome, too. Just comment or contact me here: Email: anongrimm@msn.com, Twitter: @MET_Fic, or Tumblr: anongrimm-blog.tumblr.com.
> 
> TIMELINE: After Iron Man 1, before Iron Man 2: therefore, Tony is not yet an Avenger. This is the IronTooth sequel to “The Hunt: Flipside”. My Sabretooth is based on the blond mutant in the comics, but Tony will be largely movieverse with a little influence from the comics.
> 
> Sabretooth is a gleeful villain and I don’t plan to redeem him here; if you like evil main characters, enjoy! If not, you might want to re-read the tags... My Sabretooth is inspired by the version of him when they draw him sexy and write him as an intelligent, though brutal, character. Rather than make this note as long as the story, you can get more details at my personal fanfic blog: mindseyetheatre.net or look up Sabretooth on the Marvel Comics wikis and databases. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm

I’m so into you, I can barely breathe  
And all I wanna do is to fall in deep  
But close ain’t close enough ‘til we cross the line, hey yeah  
So name a game to play, and I’ll roll a dice, hey

Oh, baby, look what you started  
The temperature’s rising in here  
Is this gonna happen?  
Been waiting and waiting for you to make a move, oh, oh, oh  
Before I make a move, oh, oh, oh

So, baby, come light me up, and maybe I’ll let you on it  
A little bit dangerous, but, baby, that’s how I want it  
A little less conversation and a little more ‘touch my body’  
‘Cause I’m so into you, into you, into you  
Got everyone watchin’ us, so, baby, let’s keep it secret  
A little bit scandalous, but, baby, don’t let them see it  
A little less conversation and a little more ‘touch my body’  
‘Cause I’m so into you, into you, into you, oh yeah

This could take some time, hey  
I made too many mistakes  
Better get this right, right, baby

Tell me what you came here for?  
‘Cause I can’t, I can’t wait no more  
I’m on the edge with no control  
And I need, I need you to know  
You to know, oh

So, baby, come light me up, and maybe I’ll let you on it  
A little bit dangerous, but, baby, that’s how I want it  
A little less conversation and a little more ‘touch my body’  
‘Cause I’m so into you, into you, into you  
Got everyone watchin’ us, so, baby, let’s keep it secret  
A little bit scandalous, but, baby, don’t let them see it  
A little less conversation and a little more ‘touch my body’  
‘Cause I’m so into you, into you, into you, oh yeah

So come light me up, so come light me up my, baby  
A little dangerous, a little dangerous my baby  
A little less conversation and a little more ‘touch my body’  
‘Cause I’m so into you, into you, into you

~ Into You (Ariana Grande)

*****************************************************************

Victor sighed when his jet touched down at the Phoenix Sky Harbor International Airport. “Tell me I gotta do this,” he told his pilot.

Zane shot him a sympathetic smile. “You have to do this. A bet’s a bet, right?”

“Right. Go play – I’m gonna be stuck here ‘til at least t’morrow, no point in both o’ us havin’ our night ruined.”

“You’re staying at the bank?”

“Yeah, if’n I even get time t’ see a bed. Get some fun in fer me, huh?”

“No problem, Boss.”

Growling, Victor left his coat draped over his seat and stepped off the jet. It was summer in Phoenix and he was stuck on a boring protection gig for a man who, while a good client, was also a person he had never liked much.

_Bet’s a fuckin’ bet – an’ if SHIELD does show t’ try an’ lock ‘im up, at least it’ll stop bein’ borin’._

A black stretch limo pulled up and a trim young brunette woman in an expensive suit with a knee-length skirt got out. She wore one of those gold stickpins in her lapel that Obinata gave them when he didn’t want Victor to eat them – so he was probably safer ignoring the subtle scent of heat she gave off.

_With those gams an’ murder weapon stilettos, bein’ good’s gonna suck._

Sighing at his fate as she held the door open, he got into the limo. The woman followed and sat on the seat opposite him.

A driver he vaguely remembered glanced in the rearview mirror at him. “The Canyon Suites at the Phoenician, sir?”

“That’s tha one. Do ya know if Mr. Paganucci already arrived?”

“He did, sir. He’s waiting for your arrival before going to the meeting room.”

“Punctual, at least. Where’d he set up tha meet?”

“In a private dining room of the J&G Steakhouse. He wishes for you to wait at the bar in that location during the meeting.”

“Cuz he don’t want me t’ hear all o’ their plans. I give a shit. Saddle up.”

The driver nodded and the limo pulled away from the jet as he checked his watch. He was running late but couldn’t care about it.

“Whiskey, Mr. Creed?”

“May as well.”

“Unless you would prefer something else?” He watched as her hands slid the skirt up toned thighs.

Victor grunted and smirked. “Yer one o’ those, huh?”

“Mr. Obinata asked me to provide whatever you might need.”

“That man’s a peach.” Without hesitation or care about the driver, he opened his fly and pulled his hardening dick out of his black made-to-measure Hugo Boss suit. “Slip ‘em panties down an’ hand ‘em over – then ya got yer orders, yeah?”

“Yes, sir.”

Victor purred, staring as she obeyed. She gave him her underwear – a bit of lust-damp white lace – and climbed on to sit on his dick without a whimper. He leaned back to relax as she began to fuck it. Laying his head on the back of the seat, he draped the panties over his eyes.

“Love it when they call me ‘sir’. Ain’t gonna let ya pull offa that before I blow – FYI.”

“This is for you, Mr. Creed. Use me however you like.”

“Mmm…” Without moving from under his panty mask, his hands gripped her body at the hips, the claws sliding out to gently prick and spur her on. “Hey, Jeeves – better find tha long way t’ tha hotel. I’m gonna stuff this twat’s holes full an’ drippin’ before duty calls.”

“Very good, sir.”

Taking in a deep breath of her scent from both panties and pussy, he chuckled. “A fuckin’ peach.”

*****************************************************************

“Initiate.”

“Initiating palladium replacement test number 129,” JARVIS responded.

Tony stepped back from the hologram of the suit and returned to his desk. It was hard to observe the program simulation of the test, hard to see the image of himself die – 128 times and counting.

As he watched, the Empty Shell hologram began to convulse, and then the test failed ... as the suit mimed damage inside the chest plate, slumped, and turned gray.

Tony swallowed, his throat abruptly dry. “Reset,” he ordered, and the suit returned to red and gold as it saluted him.

Mechanically, he turned back to the periodic table hologram tiles behind the desk and selected another chance to save his life.

“Empty Shell, come on – we have time to knock a few more out before daddy has to go to work.”

By the time test 140 failed, Tony’s hand slowly covered his eyes before the holographic image of his suit died again.

“You know what? Let’s take a break. I need one.”

He went to the kitchenette and poured more liquid chlorophyll, resisting the pull to splash vodka into the tall glass. Carrying it with him, he went to his latest restoration project and stared at the car as he drank the dark green and gritty thick liquid down.

Stepping to one side, he glanced at the slash marks in the concrete floor from Victor Creed’s last visit and felt a shiver go down his spine that settled uncomfortably in his groin. He had cleaned up the rubble and mess but had never gotten around to filling in the cuts, here or over by the couch.

Frowning as he finished off the drink, he called out, “Distract me, J – toss some Black Sabbath out there and keep it coming.”

Tony set the glass down where his favorite short screwdriver was and picked up the worn and battered gray handle as _War Pigs_ filled the air around him. The fact that the first selection wasn’t _Iron Man_ was just one more proof of how well JARVIS knew him by now.

_I should keep running tests, but I just can’t anymore for a bit … I need … a break from thinking about maybe dying. Also, finding a better headspace before the trip to Phoenix is probably a good idea._

Twirling the screwdriver in his hand, he ignored the cuts in the floor and opened the hood of the latest precious acquisition. Before he knew it, time finally began to fade away in distracted  – if momentary – bliss.

~ ~ ~

“Did you wish me to book a massage for you at the location in Phoenix, sir? There is a spa and you could use a little relaxation – after this favor for Agent Coulson is done.”

“No, I want to get back here after.” Tony frowned up at the ceiling, in the approximate direction where his assistant would be upstairs. “Did Pepper put you up to the ‘relax’ hints?”

“She did, sir.”

“I’m fine, JARVIS, I don’t need to relax – I need to work. I wouldn’t be going at all if SHIELD hadn’t sent the one guy I owe Pepper’s life to when they wanted to ask me to do this … ridiculous caper. I fight terrorists, not petty criminals. Why does SHIELD even care about this guy?”

“Mr. Paganucci is a patron of domestic terrorists.”

“Ah – well, they didn’t mention that. Cut the purse strings on the bad guys to hinder the bad guys … okay, not a bad plan. I’m still overkill for it, though.”

“A favor for a favor, your words, sir – I was to remind you.”

“This, right here, is me relaxing, by the way. Take note.”

“Noted, sir.”

Tony twirled the screwdriver in his fingers again and sighed as he put it down. “Sorry, baby,” he said to the 1931 Bugatti Royale. “Duty calls.” Cleaning grease off his hands, he groused, “Agent Coulson may not be able to appreciate that I’m leaving Type 41 here, one of six in existence, with her skirt up. Inappropriate way to treat a lady.”

“Will you be taking the jet or flying there yourself? I recommend the former.”

Tony eyed the thick briefcase full of prototype suit he had been improving on all week. “Time for another flight test? I need a fun test for a change.”

“Of course, sir. However, there is time for more core testing prior to your departure. Finding a solution is –”

“Paramount, yeah, still paramount. I’m starting to hate that word. Fine. Start it up. Empty Shell, let’s go – JARVIS is busting our balls.”

*****************************************************************

Victor scoped the bar area of the high-brow eatery after checking out the private dining room the meeting would take place in. If SHIELD had planned to bug it, they hadn’t done it yet. He took charge of the motley band of muscle standing around and gave them all jobs, regardless of what their various bosses had told them to do. None of them protested.

More attendees arrived and he gave each of them an unobtrusive sniff as they passed him to go in and sit down. He didn’t care if they were armed, as long as none of them were wearing a wire.

Catching the scent of his client’s cologne, Victor stifled a sigh as the short Italian left the meeting room to stand at his side.

Giuseppe Paganucci was what the silver spoon crowd had once called ‘new money’ but he had enough of it to make the old guard set aside their egos and play ball with him. He was a bleeding heart political type who believed real change needed blood spilled to get things kicked into gear.

Yet it wasn’t his politics that annoyed Victor, he was practiced at ignoring such things. Paganucci had little dog syndrome – and his favorite weapon to threaten rivals with was Victor. It made him feel like a two-bit knee-breaker, and he had blown the man off for over a year now as well as curbing any jobs in the personal bodyguard category.

Then along came an unscheduled bodyguard gig – in the form of not letting Hydra scarper off with the pint-sized X-Men mascot, Jubilee.

Admitting that not killing the runt’s little pocket pet had ended up worth it – quality Hydra kills and all – was the easy part. Dealing with the consequences of not plugging her was rough. He had lost a game of poker at Satan’s Circus back in New York – distracted by babysitting Jubilee in the rough den of self-styled villains.

_Still, guess it ended more or less satisfactory. ‘Spose I can put up with this idiot fer one job._

“We only lack one attendee,” his client announced. “Have you detected any SHIELD agents?”

“Nope – which I find a bit odd, all things considered.” A new scent arrived in the restaurant and Victor froze. _Bloody fuckin’ hell._

“Mr. Paganucci, what a surprise.”

Victor turned and his breath caught at the sight of Tony in one of his gorgeous pinstripe dark gray bespoke suits. The subtle whirling siren song of the arc reactor threatened to dull his focus. Just looking at him, smelling his cologne and his clean skin, made his blood thump faster, tripping through his veins.

Tony closed the space between them with movements that were casual and predatory at once. It was both fascinating and dreadfully distracting.

_That man is sex on a stick. Fuck._

Paganucci sniffed in disdain. “Mr. Stark – I didn’t see your name on the guest list.”

“An oversight, I’m sure.”

“It wasn’t. I wrote the list.”

“I invited myself. Quite an impressive hulking mook you have there. Does he bite?”

“He eats people. Say hello, Victor.”

A low growl of pure irritation escaped, but he could barely focus on the Italian anymore.

Tony Stark was magnificently arrogant and smug – and out of his pathetic reach. Then another sniff assaulted his senses with the man’s heat, and he had to swallow a groan.

One tilt of the inventor’s head in his direction, one saucy wink – and Victor’s dick went mercilessly hard.

*****************************************************************

On the heels of the alleged criminal’s flippant bragging reply, a low growl of anger rippled through the feral’s massive chest. Paganucci seemed unaware it was directed at him instead of his unwanted extra guest. Tony expected Victor to protest being spoken to like a Bond villain’s henchman, and then the mutant stalked forward.

 _This could be bad,_ he thought, and his hand tightened on the briefcase – but then he dismissed the spark of fear. _He won’t hurt me._

Victor’s cruel smirk split into a sharp grin, but Tony didn’t retreat as he advanced. One large clawed paw gripped him right over the scars that had been left by the fangs as the other one lifted to his chin. With an obscene leer, he scraped the arched gleaming backs of two claws across Tony’s lips. The points of them pricked the skin of his lower lip for a second before he released him and stepped back.

“Hiya, hero.”

When he could breathe again, he quipped, “Nice manicure.”

Victor had made him hard effortlessly and he obviously knew it, the smug bastard. They both had their poker faces on, so maybe the target wouldn’t notice that the men he was trying to pit against each other resembled neophyte porn actresses after the magically endowed pizza boy rang the bell.

Another aspiring member of the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted Fugitives list walked in and nodded to Paganucci before going into the private dining room.

“Your pardon, my meeting is about to start. Victor, please do see to it that Mr. Stark doesn’t bother us – or any of his friends. I’ll have Marco at the door inside.”

“Stark won’t do shit.”

After the meeting room doors were closed, Victor walked off to go sit at the bar near the windows.

Surprised by the silent retreat, Tony claimed a chair at the opposite end of the bar to regroup his impulses and gather his thoughts.

Outside, the bright blue sky was cheerful and innocent, and he was reasonably certain there wasn’t a cloaked helicarrier lurking in it. He was willing to bet that if there was, Victor wouldn’t be so calm. Watching him as he sat there, one claw tapping a tiny hole in the red sandstone bar, Tony slowly realized that calm wasn’t what Victor was.

The bartender came over and he started to order whatever scotch they had before changing his mind.

“Make that a glass of Glenfiddich – and send one down to Mr. Fluffy.”

Once the alcoholic sacrifice was accepted, Tony put on his best pickup artist smile and moved in.

“So I bought you a drink – doesn’t that mean you have to talk to me?”

“Dunno – what’s it say in yer Sexism fer Dummies handbook?”

Tony let a suave smug smile creep out, suppressing the delighted grin that tried to escape. “Is it technically sexism, since we’re the same sex?”

“Ya tell me – I’m just ‘nother bottom-feedin’ misogynist knuckle-dragger in tha cesspool.”

“Wow. Touché. You really do read all the interviews I give.”

He set his drink on the bar and the briefcase on the floor before pulling out the stool next to the feral. He sat on it without facing him.

_Casual is key – as I suspect ‘volatile’ may be an understatement._

It was too early for scotch in Pepper’s view, but she wasn’t here, and the booze helped around moody ferals. That first sip was nothing short of miraculous after five hours without.

Amazed that Victor had remained silent, Tony tried again. “You realize, I wasn’t thinking of you in particular – it’s a rather large cesspool.”

“If’n tha jackboots fit, lace those bitches up an’ stomp ‘round.”

“I was on my high-horse. My statement, therefore, was a bit disingenuous; I get called sexist all the time just because I like women. I have also observed that the ones I – like – aren’t the ones who complain. Still, apparently, not settling down and marrying some good girl from the Bible Belt is a crime in the minds of many. Also, not to be downplayed, I was trying to seduce a lovely feminist at the time. Having a language in common, more or less, helps facilitate that sort of endeavor.”

“Figures.”

Tony took in the slump of the broad shoulders that matched the surly frown. The golden curly mane was contained in a fancy thick herringbone braid down the back that someone else must have done for him. There were beaded bits in the loose hair around his face, but none of them were the carved femur bone beads. Photos didn’t do justice to the sight of this strapping creature in a magnificent suit.

_Damn, how long has it been since I was with anyone? Besides Victor? I bailed on that feminist reporter – one look in the men’s room mirror at my chest ended the game before it started. I got that pushed back now, though, don’t I? Victor isn’t a reporter, either – a tick in the plus column._

He let his gaze wander down the feral’s body and tried not to reach out and palm the erection in those tailored pants.

_Not the time, not the place, but ... hell, it’s been too long..._

Abruptly, all he wanted to do was chuck it all, forget his mission, the favor he owed – and everything else – and lure the man off somewhere for a quick roll.

The feral’s dark mood, at odds with his obvious arousal, was a little off-putting and disappointing, however – he had hoped he would want the same thing, and initially thought he did. Tony was primed for it, and the fact that they needed to pretend to be enemies at the moment only made him want it more.

 _Finesse it then, kick those gears. Seduce him – he’ll love it. But first, there’s the tiny problem of our goals being currently misaligned..._ “So, Grumpy – why are you here babysitting scum? Is this a lateral career move?”

Victor snorted. “I lost a bet.”

“Funny.” Watching a blond eyebrow rise, Tony added, “Ah – a literal bet. Gin Rummy? Go Fish?”

“High-stakes Poker.”

“Going by growl-rate, I’m betting you don’t like him anymore than I do. Oh, to be a fly on that gambling den wall.”

“Don’t matter none. T’morrow, I’ll be back t’ my regular job.”

“Human Whack-a-Mole?” Tony swirled the amber liquid in the glass before taking a drink. He set it down again as his fingertips toyed suggestively with the rim.

Victor smirked and downed his drink in one go. “Yup.”

Signaling the bartender over, he asked, “Bring us the bottle? On my tab.”

When it arrived, Tony poured for both of them, nearly filling the glasses.

He assumed he was a surprise, and perhaps the moody funk was hiding anxiety – not wanting to be at odds. Victor was certainly a surprise to him. The homework he’d done on Paganucci painted the sort of arrogant prat image he would have thought the mutant wouldn’t put up with.

 _Then again, he puts up with me. Huh. Guess I’ll poke the beast and see what happens or we could be here – where I can’t discretely screw him – all day._ He took a deep pull on his glass and set it down with a thunk. _Fortune favors the brave._ “So you took this job, lost bet or not, knowing you’d be at odds with me. Did you get curious if you could take me in a fight or did you just miss me?”

That expressive mouth parted, the upper lip curling and rising just enough to show teeth. It was clearly a warning, but the wet shine of scotch on his lips made Tony want to lick them clean.

“Had no idea ya’d be involved.”

“Come on – either you or Obinata would have checked it out prior.”

“We did – knew ‘bout SHIELD. How’d ya get mixed up in it? This asshole ain’t yer usual target – or did ya come here t’ harass me?”

“No, I’m here to harass your client. I owe Agent Coulson a favor – for saving Pepper from Stane.”

“Ya an’ yer favors.”

“Says the guy I owe – what – two or three to, by now?”

The cat eyes narrowed, refusing to look at him. “I could call one in – walk away.”

“You don’t want to waste that on him, and you know it.”

Victor drained his glass again, slumping a hair lower as he watched Tony refill it. His sigh was regretful – but also resigned.

“Can’t let ya have tha bastard – gotta rep t’ protect.”

Tony grunted and drank. _Time to reroute this potential mess – either that or I’ll end up actually having to fight Mr. Apex Predator who can cut my suit like butter, and that is an ugly thought above and beyond the fact that I would definitely rather fuck the man._

“Tony –”

“Wait, me first. Set reputation aside for a minute. This guy’s a dick who gets off on treating you like a loaded thug he can point at people. I don’t know how your clientele usually treats you, but I’m betting that besides losing a payday or two, you wouldn’t be sorry to see this idiot off your schedule. Don’t try to say I’m wrong – I’m not.” As Victor frowned and hesitated, Tony added, “Maybe we could cobble together a compromise?”

The feral’s sexy low voice sunk to a familiar and creepy rasp as the frown turned darker. “Ain’t gonna discuss welchin’ on my bet or handin’ over a good client, dick or not.”

“Well, not in public, no.” Tony swigged down his drink in a few gulps, aware that Victor was staring at his throat as he swallowed. He grabbed the bottle by the neck and made sure his knee grazed the man’s thigh as he stood. “Follow along if you want any of this.”

Not daring to look back, he picked up the briefcase in his free hand and walked off, heading for the men’s room across the open and sparsely populated dining area. He couldn’t hear if Victor had taken the bait or not, and then abruptly heard the low hiss of words behind him.

“Go in tha women’s.”

Tony opened his mouth to protest, and then snapped it shut. Veering to the right, he opened the swinging door with a forearm and hoped no one would greet his invasion with a scream. He moved to the last stall, grateful the place seemed to be empty. Because Victor knew a suit was folded inside the briefcase, he slid it into the narrow space beside the toilet.

He heard Victor hit the outer door to open it. Heart rate tripping over itself, Tony drank from the bottle in self-defense.

The feral filled the stall doorway when he opened it. Turning the bolt lock on the door as he stepped in seemed like an afterthought.

Victor took the offered bottle, and then it was Tony’s turn to stare as that gifted thick throat swallowed. He kept it up until the bottle was drained and held it loosely in his thick fingers as he watched him.

“So talk, flyboy. How’d ya ‘spose we can find a mutually satisfyin’ compromise outta this shit show?”

Taking it all in, Tony moved forward and put one hand on the mutant’s belt buckle as the other palmed and squeezed the erection in those black pants. It felt as good as he expected.

“Oh, honey, damn... We can talk after.”

Victor growled and smashed the bottle on the tile wall. Pieces of it went everywhere around their shoes. Tony flinched but managed not to react beyond that.

The blond held the jagged remains of the bottle casually by its neck moments before he grabbed Tony by the throat.

“Open yers, gimme that sweet cock. Do it now, genius.”

While Tony was trying to muster the guts to object in an effort to maintain equal footing, the outer door opened and the sound of heels clicked in. The savage grin taunted him, daring him to speak. When the fingers tightened on his throat like a command, Tony’s dropped and fumbled to open his belt and zipper.

 _So much for equal footing. Crap. Over the falls sans barrel but my god, I want him._ He freed himself and let it bob there.

Victor released him, positioned him to stand straddling the toilet, and then handed him the neck of the broken bottle. He began to lower himself to kneel on shattered green glass, the slitted amber eyes still daring Tony to make a sound.

The woman entered the first stall. At least the tiled partitions went all the way to the floor, even if the doors did not. Unconcerned, Victor let his knees crush onto the glass shards.

Tony wanted to worry about the glass, but the insanity of it all only made him ache for whatever Victor wanted to do to him.

The mouth, just as jagged as and far sharper than the bottle, opened slowly. The long tongue lolled out to accept him and Tony felt his mind glaze over as he thrust to slap his cock down onto its inviting and rough wet heat.

As the mouth closed and began to suck him off, Tony let out a moan, no longer caring if the woman heard him. Her breath caught in a gasp, and then she hurried out. The instant she was gone, Tony’s nerveless fingers let the bottle slip and fall. The rest of it shattered, spraying glittering flecks of glass over the black pants straining around the thick muscular thighs.

Tony’s hands shot out and pressed onto the tiled walls on either side of the stall as Victor attempted to suck his brains out through his cock.

When the purring began to vibrate it as it was swallowed down deep into that throat, he threw his head back and gritted out, “Oh, fuck…”

Claws pricking Tony’s thighs through the material of his suit spurred him to thrust, fucking into Victor’s throat, denying him breath. The threat of those claws only lingered in his head as a hazy sensation that heightened his lust.

He managed to hold back a little longer, aware he was robbing the feral of air long enough to put the beast within him into dangerous distress. Letting go of the walls, his fingers flew to the edges of the jaw hinges, caressing the bones under the fur and skin, feeling the raised knobs of each hinge, even pressing on them gently.

The mouth closed down more as the four front upper and lower incisor teeth, between the sharp bits and lethal fangs, pinched the root of his cock and stopped his thrusts. When the pinch stopped, he grabbed the braid, yanked on it, and thrust rough and hard again, abusing the luscious throat until he lost control and came.

A final swallow made Tony curse and then he let go of the braid as the feral opened his mouth wide and leaned back fast. He hit the door, nearly popping it open, and crouched there on his knees, panting for breath as he stared up at him.

Shaking legs failed him and Tony collapsed to sit on the toilet. Without hesitation, he leaned over as Victor leaned in to meet him and their kiss was borderline savage. One sharp tooth next to a fang pricked his bottom lip and the tongue lashed over it like sandpaper.

The air was charged with what had to be animal pheromones. It burrowed into his lungs, making him feel drunk faster than the scotch ever could. He needed more – and so did the glorious creature kneeling at his feet.

Near breathless, Tony whispered against the lips that kept kissing his. “I can lean on the wall –”

“No.” A low warning growl followed the impossible refusal.

Shock splashed over lust. “I want it!”

A large hand tipped by bright curved claws gripped his jaw before he could rise.

“No. No way t’ make it easier. I won’t hurt ya like that again.”

The harsh grip relaxed before it could give pain. Soft lips kissed his slower, with more care.

Tony turned his head the fraction that he could to stop him. “You don’t...?”

“Hush... I want it too,” the blond whispered. The animal sound of lust he made sank into Tony’s fevered brain and nested there. “My god, Tony… Fuck… Never wanted anyone like I want ya, not in a hundred years.”

The hands cupped under his jaw and forced him to be still for a deeper kiss, trying to slow them both down. Then he leaned to rest their foreheads together. Thumbs tipped by claws that could slash metal stroked through his facial hair as if to quiet him. Yet the hunger still rumbled through the heavy body.

“Tony…”

“Victor, come on…”

Trying to turn a spark back into a blaze, he reached down, grabbed the hard and hot erection, and squeezed it. Something cut his palm and he cried out weakly.

His wrist was held in one hand as claws found the sliver of glass and pulled it out. Tony surrendered the hand to the suckling lips and licking tongue as the blood welled.

Pain clashed with afterglow as his brain swapped out all that delicious dopamine for a surge of painkilling beta-endorphins.

Sighing in defeat, Tony muttered, “I liked the sex high better. Can we get the glass off you and try again?”

When the bleeding stopped, Victor whispered over it. “No time. Outside … heard a chopper – it’s SHIELD.”

“Oh, hell. They weren’t supposed to be here.”

Victor looked up at him with suspicion and alarm widening his eyes.

“No – I swear – I didn’t call them in. I didn’t know you were going to be here, either, but I wanted to handle it without them. Victor, I wouldn’t – tell me you know that.” He bent to kiss him again until he responded.

Victor broke the kiss and gave his head a little shake, as if to drive off the abrupt fear of betrayal. Tony watched him, relieved and fascinated at once.

“We need that compromise fast, lessen ya wanna see how good I am at killin’ SHIELD’s bastards.”

 _Showtime. The King of Beasts just gave you a big hunk of trust – earn it._ “Okay – you go out there and I suit up. Attack me – pretend,” he amended to answer the feral’s shocked hiss. He leaned back and got his pants straightened out and things put away. Ignoring the lingering pain in his hand, he let his thoughts rocket off, plotting as they went. “With that glass all over you, anyone around will think the fight started in here. Let me win, we can improvise as we go, and then I’ll grab your dickhead client and call off Fury’s dogs. Ah, do you care about Paganucci’s meeting friends?”

“Not one bit.”

“So maybe playing 52 Pickup with them will keep any agents around busy enough. I’ll shoot something at you – and miss – but you run for it. There, we have a plan. Done.”

Victor’s eyebrow arched. “It’s ‘sposed t’ be a compromise, ain’t it?”

“Oh, I am so meeting you afterward with a fresh bottle of scotch and a bottle of lube. Just don’t break any more glass as foreplay, deal?”

“Not what I meant.” His growl faltered as he turned his head away, the chin lowering as the dominant animal power faded. “Need ya t’ hit me with one o’ ‘em fuckin’ repulsor blasts.”

“What? Why? No.”

“It’s gotta be a real hit. Swear.

Tony glared at him. “Trust me, I’m about to.”

The feral snarled. It was quite alarming at close range.

“I don’t dodge enemy fire an’ turn tail like some spooked weak bitch. Every-fuckin’-body knows that – ‘cept ‘parently ya – includin’ yer playdate pals in bargain riot gear. Ya wanna keep nasty sex with tha psycho felon on tha down-low or not? Swear. Promise me. A real hit.” He touched the side of his thigh. “Vastus lateralis. Right there.”

Horrified, Tony whispered, “I can’t…”

“It’ll heal.”

“No.”

“Tony, damn it...”

Victor rose higher on his knees and the tink of glass breaking under them made Tony shudder. He fought the kiss, but the feral held him still for it until he gave in.

“This is what I need from ya – it has t’ convince every tom, dick, an’ asshat out there or this could be a real prob fer me.”

“Give it up – no more problem. Maybe … work for me.”

Victor’s lopsided smile was confusing – soft and fond, and tolerating his abrupt-onset stupidity.

“That blowjob scrambled yer genius brains. There are people out there ya ‘sometimes’ are in cahoots with who woulda executed me a dozen times over by now if’n they could only fig out how t’ make it stick. Ya can’t just add me t’ yer payroll. I got my thing, ya got yers.”

“You could get a hit in on me. Why does it have to be me shooting you?”

“Cuz I’ll heal in minutes. Can ya?”

“Why not just wing you, on the arm or ribs?”

“Gotta be a shot that folks’ll believe puts me down – a tall order even on a bad day – fer long ‘nuff so’s ya can grab that pompous twat. Capiche?”

Tony’s thoughts spun. It was all fun and games until he was being asked to seriously injure someone – a man he was trying to convince that he could trust him not to hurt him.

“I lob ordinance at people in war-type battle situations, when they’re shooting back. I don’t coldly plan to shoot the ones I want to have sex with later. Contrary to your experience, being shot is not foreplay.”

Claw-tipped fingers brushed down his face. “I ain’t gonna hurt ya, so ya gotta hurt me. This is tha compromise fer betrayin’ a good client. I gotta code – I need this. Swear ya will.”

Tony bowed his head, staring at the shining flecks of glass all over Victor’s thighs. The heavy bunched muscles were a work of art.

“This is like being asked to shoot a hole in a Rembrandt.”

The elastic and wicked smirk stretched wide, but Tony could tell it was bravado. The feral had always been afraid of the repulsor weapons.

“Naw, I ain’t that old – an’ worth way less’n yer gloat Pollock fingerpaintin’.”

“Not funny. Fine, okay, I swear – I’ll do it. How do we meet up again?”

“Phones still work, ya know.”

Victor stood to his feet with a smooth, easy grace. He didn’t even wince over the pieces of glass that were still stuck in him. Turning away, the mutant tossed him a fresh smirk over his heavy shoulder.

“I’m stayin’ in my suite at tha Ryu Bank t’night, downtown Phoenix. It’s gotta balcony – they all do. Fly on up.”

Sighing, Tony asked, “You said there are two of them – how do I know which is yours? Obinata’s opinion of me won’t be improved if I drop in on him for a nightcap.”

“He ain’t here, an’ mine … has li’l trees on it.” Victor winked at him.

“Seriously?”

“Yup. I’m all zen an’ shit on my own time. Off we go, hero.”

Tony rose, painfully aware that he was standing over a toilet in the ladies’ room for this little speech.

“Victor, wait – what we do is not nasty, and you aren’t a psycho.”

“Sure I am. That just ain’t all I am. When did ya quit readin’ what it says on tha tin, flyboy? Pre-judgin’ me used t’ be yer hobby.”

“I paid my dues finding out you’re more than that. I ... don’t want to do this.”

“Me, neither. It’s a clusterfuck o’ a crawfish tango – but ya done swore t’ me now.” Victor unlatched the sliding bolt and stepped out of the stall.

“Don’t go out there yet – I need to suit up.”

“Afraid I’ll start killin’ yer friends before ya get there?”

“Yes, actually, but they aren’t my friends.” He turned and grabbed the briefcase. Hauling it out, he laid it on its side.

Victor leaned on the wall outside of the stall and watched him with one eyebrow arched. “An’ me without a magazine. That gonna take long? Can’t let SHIELD have all tha fun.”

Tony kicked an expensive leather shoe into the foot pedal opening, and as the case opened out, he shoved his fists down, grabbed the handles, and yanked to let the glauntlets cover them. He had the grim satisfaction of seeing Victor’s palms slap the wall behind him in shock as he pulled up the rest of the case and allowed it to build the suit around his body. Reticulated plates ran down his limbs to interweave into armor the moment the suit’s separate arc reactor fired up. In 19.45 seconds, the faceplate dropped, the screen lit up the eyes, and he was ready to fight.

“Fuck…” the blond whispered.

“Still want a magazine?” he asked in the mechanized voice as the HUD lit up inside the helmet.

Victor managed to stop the snarling growl. “Time t’ make this look good.” He reached out and slashed the open stall door into pieces. “Shoot somethin’ on yer way out, huh? Let’s kick this pig.”

When the feral crouched, roared, and launched through the outer door, Tony fired at the stall, blowing it and the toilet to rubble. Water went everywhere, and he tried not to dwell on how much juvenile fun it was.

The AI piped up, sounding worried. “Sir, is this a wise course of action?”

“It’s ‘play along’ time, JARVIS. We’re getting the mission accomplished and saving lives. Identify any agents, plainclothes or not, but keep focus on Victor and Paganucci.”

Bursting out of the restroom door, he knocked it off the hinges Victor had left it hanging from.

SHIELD had apparently stormed the meeting room, but some of the occupants had gotten clear of it. The ruckus had overturned furniture and broken place settings all around the principle players, with a few injured on both sides.

“Scan the wounded, quickie triage report?”

“Multiple non-lethal GSWs, one broken arm.”

His HUD had become dotted with blue targets around civilians and agents – only seven of the latter so far – and red targets around alleged terrorists, Victor, and his client. The man in charge was cowering behind the feral.

“Mark Victor in green from now on – sketchy allies get their own color.”

JARVIS didn’t comment as the target around his partner in avoiding crime turned green.

“I have to shoot him – his idea. I want to see it, after the dustup; I need a better understanding of what it can do. Zoom or something – record it.”

For a heartbeat, Tony stared at the roaring mass of bristling mutant rage, stunned by the power and beauty of it. No trace of their plan could be detected in his face. Then one of the agents began to engage him – brave or stupid, anyone’s guess – and it was time to go to work. Tony shot the floor just to make the agent check, hoping the others would see it as a warning salvo for the mutant to stand down.

The realization that these agents would be debriefed, and Fury might hear all about it because of Iron Man’s involvement, abruptly drove home Victor’s point about keeping their fraternizing a secret. Fury didn’t miss much, and if Tony pulled any punches, he would hunt down why.

“Don’t let the others run,” he spoke to the agents. “They’re the terrorists looking for a sponsor. Leave moneybags and Mr. Fluffy to me.” A few of the agents groused over the comm JARVIS had automatically patched him into, but Tony shut them down. “Agent Coulson wanted me to help, so let me help – unless you’re all just itching to get pureed by the Most Wanted Fugitive list’s Adamantium-tipped poster boy. He gives Wolverine a hard time, by the way. Your call.”

Paganucci’s friends were putting up a determined fight to escape and when the agents took the out he’d given them, Tony smiled. Then he yelped when Victor jumped for him with a swipe of those claws. The attack was so fast, his motion sensor alarm had to catch up.

“Hey! Okay, kitty, that’s a time-out for you.”

Victor gathered himself to jump again, and Tony readied his shot. It was a blur in his head as the repulsor hit and disintegrated flesh.

The blast struck the mutant out of his upward trajectory, smashed him through the wall of glass, and out onto the patio. He crashed into the metal railing, bending it, and nearly fell into the pool below. An animal shriek split the air, and the hip worked reflexively – the injured leg kicking out as he immediately struggled to rise. Only then did the wound start to bleed, but it was not going to keep the mutant down. Tony was shocked when he realized how fast Victor would be up and fighting.

He shook his head as he turned in the air and swooped for his fleeing mark. Motion sensors flashed, and he ended up grabbing the Italian more roughly than he intended just to get away from the roaring beast that was coming at him from behind.

Shooting between Victor’s feet to make him dodge, he doubled back and went through the hole they had made in the glass wall, his mission objective carted off with him by the back of the belt.

Tony flew down to where the agents were stuffing handcuffed men into their transport. With a signature flourish, he dropped Paganucci into their waiting arms.

“Hurry up, get out of here! That beastie isn’t likely to give up easily but maybe if his boss is a lost cause, Grendel will go crawl back under his rock.”

“You got it,” the man in charge responded.

“I told Coulson not to send anyone – did he change his mind?”

“My orders came from Director Fury, sir – to provide you with backup. Thanks for your help. I didn’t want my men taking on that ugly brute – it costs too much to train new ones.”

“Anytime.” The sarcasm in his tone was probably lost on the man.

He watched the black chopper take off, and then flew high and headed southeast away from Scottsdale to Tucson.

Landing on the tallest roof in the city, he sucked in a breath. “Show me what you got, J.”

JARVIS called up the instant replay of Victor’s injury, in agonizing detail, on his HUD.

Tony winced as the scorched edges of the hole in red meat burned wider to show him a metallic flash of the coated femur. It looked like silver lace. Through the small holes of the lace pattern, some of the bone beneath was crumbling away. It made him sick.

Working instantly to repair it, the healing factor seemed to prioritize minimizing the loss of blood, but as Victor moved, healed vessels burst and blood gushed from the gaping wound.

The playback ended because he had turned to snatch the target. The sounds the mutant was making in the clip were chilling: the agony, the rage – and underneath all that, a more shrill note of bestial fear.

_Like those torture sessions with that Hydra creep Catalyst, except it was fast, over quickly, and only happened once – unless we count the shoulder I hit before at that Halloween event._

Yet now, unlike with Catalyst decades ago, no human screams had been uttered. Every cry of pain or rage had been the sounds of the beast.

 _Maybe I don’t have the guts to ask him why that changed. Enter SHIELD, no less, recipient of the Worst Timing award, and his first thought was that I’d called them in for him – just like I threatened to do on Halloween. Damn it._ “I’m going to need one hell of an awesome bottle of scotch. JARVIS, point me at the best of the best in this state and have it bought before I get there.”

“Anything else, sir?”

“Yeah, toss in a bottle of Sylk – for both date and damage control.”

“Such a rare combination.”

“On task, thanks.”

“Searching.”

“The Adamantium wasn’t damaged by me. Those holes – Hank’s medical report called that phenomenon Adamantium Beta. Weapon X bonded True Adamantium to him, but allegedly the healing factor can rearrange its cellular structure during the process. That creates the lace pattern so that the metal doesn’t inhibit biological processes and allows the bones to do what bones do. I suppose keeping the subject alive while the coating initially goes on solid is only one of the factors that can nearly kill them?” Tony shuddered inside the metal suit.

“Did you wish me to retrieve the files on the Weapon X Adamantium bonding experiments, sir? The data is limited.”

“Yes ... but later. Just thinking out loud. I already know that almost nothing can manipulate Adamantium once it cools and sets. I wonder if he could feel it changing into the beta form during the process, at a smelting temperature of 1,500 degrees Fahrenheit...?”

“Target acquired, sir.”

“Excellent. Get me a local suite here; I need a shower, a meal, and maybe a gallon of liquid chlorophyll before I face Mr. Crazy Sense of Smell. If it makes me gassy, he sort of deserves it, really.” Tony fired up the boots and sighed. “I hope he’s okay.”

When the coast was clear after sunset, he would fly to Phoenix and find out.

*****************************************************************

Victor shrieked when Iron Man hit him, knocking him across the room and through the glass. The agony of the wound plunged him into a lethal red haze that sparked fear up his spine as he struggled to rise. The hip worked frantically, making the leg kick out, but the muscles wouldn’t obey him yet.

Iron Man launched after Paganucci and snatched him up by the belt. Victor roared, hoping it might clear his head. His client had to see him wounded and down, struggling, fighting to heal – to defend. He roared again as he got shakily to his feet and advanced. Far too fast to catch, Iron Man fired again between his boots to make him dodge out of the way as he flew overhead – through the broken window, over the pool, and gone.

Standing there, panting and barely able to remain upright, he turned, staggered, and headed for a stairwell door. He would have dragged the injured leg in a limp for effect but ended up needing to for real. The few bystanders stupid enough not to run would see what he wanted them to see: a wounded animal slinking off to hide and lick its wounds.

Victor stopped on the first landing that had turned around a bend and couldn’t be seen if someone opened the stairwell door. Leaning his weight on the concrete blocks wall, he stared at his thigh as the horrid wound healed. Instinct screamed at him to run, but he had to stop leaving a blood trail.

Testing his weight on it once the hole was closed, he stepped off the landing a breath later, and bounded fast down to the ground level. With ears open to catch sounds of pursuit from any direction, he bolted away from the resort and up the hill dotted with scrub brush that loomed over it. In mere moments, he had disappeared into the desert landscape.

~ ~ ~

His suite at the Phoenix bank building was freshly cleaned. The collection of plants and small flowering trees, bonsai and larger, had been watered and the scent and sight of them was soothing after a luxurious scalding hot shower.

One alluring scent in the suite came from someone he intended to send on her way – after the spa treatment.

She had brought food: pounds of raw beef and sweetmeat organs from the same animal. Until he ate to stop the awful grinding hunger of the healing factor demanding to be replenished, he wouldn’t have been capable of relaxing.

Growling under his breath, he was almost tempted to start purring with pleasure as the Japanese porcelain doll of a woman massaged sage oil into his back. The low growl turned sharper instead, when she stroked down and rested her hand on his ass. Familiar with his responses, she ran it up his back again before returning to massage the thigh a final time.

He sat up on the towel that covered the divan when she finished. Watching as she washed her hands at the bowl sink, he gathered the towel around him and tucked it securely at his hips.

The subtle bathroom lighting gleamed now and then on the gold stickpin she wore under a collarbone. Her dark blue dress was expensive, but she wasn’t wearing panties. Unlike the woman in the limo, this one wasn’t eager to mate – a fact that might not have mattered to him if he hadn’t been waiting on Tony to show up.

 _If he shows up..._ “Play geisha fer me, huh? Ya can ply yer other talents next time. Need tha mop dried an’ braided first – an’ a good shave ‘round tha chops. Got me a date.”

“As you wish, Creed-san.”

Her smile was warm – probably grateful he didn’t want to fuck her, though Obinata’s masseuse ones were always fair game. Curiosity tugged at him to either find out why or fuck her anyway – but he shook it off.

_Can nail it next time – need my head put back on straight._

He leaned against the frame of the bathroom doorway and watched her, unable not to. These small and flitting ones, nervous, weak but quick – they sparked a predatory fascination.

She moved around the suite lighting scented candles inside squatty round natural Himalayan salt holders. The soft amber flickering light and gentle scent of sage transformed the space, even as the glint of her gold pin made him twitch and shake his head to break the watcher’s spell.

When he settled on the couch, still in the towel but otherwise ready for his guest, she moved to perch on her knees like a songbird on a small red rug on the floor. She picked up the shamisen she had brought and began to play it. The Okinawan string instrument, similar to a small-bodied guitar, was an antique – likely a gift from Obinata himself.

_So this li’l bird’s a favorite – probly why he’s assigned ‘er here. I don’t come out this way much. Traditionally trained geisha, I bet, seein’ as she got my drift straight off. They never were hookers, just pro companions. Works fer me. Only bird I want in my bed is tha red an’ gold predatory kind._

Able to nap a bit while she sang soft and sad in Japanese, he didn’t bother to translate it – it was like birdsong, driving away the memory of pain in his body as surely as the sage oil had.

~ ~ ~

Victor woke with a start and sat up, growling as a nightmare faded. The suite around him was dimly lit, silent and empty. He felt cold but the air was not – it was in his head. The snow had buried the stone around him and there was no way out...

_Stop. It’s summer an’ there’s a fuckin’ desert out there._

Yet the nightmare still clung to him like brambles, tearing rents in his meager thin peace.

It had been the cell in Sinister’s old snowbound castle lair where the spooky scientist would watch him recover from exploratory surgeries. How often had he regained consciousness, naked and so damaged that the healing was slow, to see that cold and impassive face outside the cell?

Shuddering, his fingers touched his forehead and searched along the scalp under the hair, but the tracks of thick catgut lobotomy sutures were long gone – almost a century ago. By the time he had joined the Marauders to work for the man, his memories of that time had been buried. He hadn’t known then why the dark ruby stare of those mutant eyes had cowed him, left him willing to obey – for a time.

During his daily telepathic assaults, Xavier had torn the protective scabs from so many horrors, only to leave them open and infected in his mind as the hunt went on. A good amount of them had been focused on Nathaniel Essex.

 _What tha hell were ya lookin’ fer, ya fuckin’ freak?_ He covered his face with a palm. _Ways Sinister found t’ control me – so ya could try it yerself? All o’ Tony’s fancy talk ‘bout sayin’ no ... never seems t’ work fer me._

Another shudder rippled through his body – he could almost feel the empty chill of that stare, even awake.

A snarl bared his teeth at a minute sound and he looked up to see Iron Man’s glowing blank stare through the glass at the balcony. He was hovering in the air, framed by the last scarlet throes of sunset.

When Victor froze, the faceplate popped and the metal suit lowered to land on the balcony. The face of Tony in the armor smiled at him and raised a hand to show off a black gift bag.

Stifling the snarl, he couldn’t help a low warning growl as he rose to open the sliding door.

“Nice mini orchard. Honestly, I thought you were joking.”

Tony’s smile was warm and helped to burn away the fog in his head. Victor didn’t glance at the fruit-bearing Ficus or Dwarf Washington Navel orange tree on either side of them.

“I like a spot o’ nature in my city digs.”

“We should dress up in sheet togas and feed each other figs.”

“Rather dress down – how do I get ya outta this tin can? Ya keep changin’ tha locks.”

“Et tu, Brute? Alms for the recuperated…” He offered the gift bag again.

Victor took it, set it on the small table next to the Ficus, and moved right into Tony’s personal space. His hands settled on the ridged metal where the ribs would be. The rocket boots put the man eye to eye with him.

“Obinata called while I was grabbin’ a bite – looks like our li’l gambit worked. Ain’t nobody gonna suspect I crawfished on that bet when witnesses saw fuckin’ Iron Man kick my ass, not some chump. Messed me up good – wasn’t a damn thing I could do ‘bout it. Got anythin’ clever t’ say t’ tha press? One o’ ‘em ‘I am fuckin’ Iron Man’ quotes?”

“Exactly that – tonight, you’re fucking Iron Man.” He cleared his throat as Victor smirked at him. “That sounded far less cheesy in my head.”

“Gonna make ya kiss me just t’ shut ya tha hell up now.”

“Yes, please do.”

He managed not to flinch when the gaunlets that housed the repulsor weapons came up to hold his body as the kiss scattered his thoughts. Backing up, he pulled the tin man with him into the suite without breaking the kiss.

*****************************************************************

Tony snagged the bag he had brought and managed to slide the glass door shut. He nearly dropped the gift when he got lost in the heated kiss, but then Victor broke it to snarl as he looked down at the armor.

“Wasn’t a rhetorical question before – where’s tha zip on this fuckin’ thing?”

“It needs space to ditch it. Hold this.”

Peering into the bag as he took it, Victor purred at its contents.

“I am quite a fan of that.”

“Single malt scotch an’ Sylk? Me, too.”

“No, the purring.”

“Wanna hear more’n that, best get a can opener.”

Grinning, Tony shot back, “Don’t get the bottles mixed up.”

Victor gave him space by moving to set the expensive bottle of Glenfiddich and the lube on the bar, on top of the collapsed bag. His amber eyes gleamed in the low lights of the suite as he turned to watch.

Tony struck out with both arms in the programmed movement to release the armor, confirming the order with a verbal, “Relax time, JARVIS.”

The whole process reversed as the plates collected themselves and gathered into grouped sections, releasing his limbs and torso until it resembled a rectangular hunk held between the armored hands. He bent to let the gauntlets go, and before he could fully straighten up, the suit had reformed into the briefcase. Leaving it lying there out of the way, he stepped into Victor’s living room in his workshop clothes.

Victor smirked. “Twenty seconds – a bit slower than it took t’ get it up.”

“It’s already up.”

“Found time t’ ditch both suits, huh? Good. I can get ya outta jeans an’ a t-shirt way faster.”

“Actually, it was easier to pick up your host gift dressed like this.”

Tony didn’t join the mutant immediately. He had never taken the time to really see the suite in New York, but the few details he did remember told him that this one was different in many ways. The lasting first impression was books and plants, and in some cases, trees – many of which appeared to have fruit hanging from them. Some were tiny Bonsai trees and even a few of those had fruit – regular size, not miniature like the trees.

He wandered up to the bookshelves and tilted his head to read a few of the spines. He never heard the feral approach but smiled when warm breath stirred the hair behind his ear. The side of his neck was kissed as that purr rumbled deep in the throat and chest.

“You weren’t joking about reading books, either.”

Soft lips bracketed by long fangs feathered up the back of his ear. “Tony … I need it.”

Lust dropped through his stomach at the sound of that rasping urgent whisper and hit his balls as he gave a low groan. Reaching behind him, he worked his fingers into the tuck of Victor’s towel and pulled, letting the terrycloth drop to the decorative mosaic stone floor.

“You may have had one, but I could use a hot bath.” Victor stepped back, about to turn, presumably to take him to a tub. “Stop. I want to look at you.”

Tony was watched just as intently as the mutant stood still to display his body, and in the dance of predator and prey, he wasn’t entirely sure which role he was in.

Toeing out of his tennis shoes, he kicked them to one side as he stared at muscle, fur, and smooth, perfect skin. It was hard to look at the thigh he had injured – disintegrated – but it was unscathed, as smooth and alternately furry as the rest. The claws were curling, long and lethal, and just as sexual in that moment as the rest of him.

It hadn’t been a plan, but he ended up sinking down to his knees to touch that thigh as his other hand gripped the base of Victor’s heavy cock. Fingers stroking the thigh, he licked a wet path up the underside of the cock and smiled when the purr ground into low chuffing growls of heat.

“That smell, it’s like a drug.” He looked up at the cat eyes that were staring down at him. “It’s the pheromones, isn’t it? Is that what drove me out of my head today?”

Victor didn’t answer and didn’t need to. Breathing in deeply, Tony felt like he was inhaling a fine and strange incense in some Eastern den of vices and tilted virtues.

_Why is it stronger today than it was at my house? Hang that – veto all rabbit holes – Hello Kitty time._

His fingers slid, pulling down the bobbing cock, until he could stuff the broad uncut head into his mouth. He suckled it, lowered his body to angle his neck right, and used his tongue to work it deeper. The first swallow to move it closer to the top of his throat nearly buckled Victor’s knees.

He had to back off of it, keeping his breathing even while he gulped air. When he took it in again, he worked it deeper and swallowed before starting to retreat to where he could comfortably suck it. The hand that had stroked the thigh moved to the hip. He hoped to control the shallow sporadic thrusts that pushed him to take the cock deep.

One large clawed hand settled on his hair and gripped it with surprising care. He pushed against the hip as he squeezed and stroked the shaft, and the feral stilled with a moan and let him guide it all. Encouraged, Tony grabbed the furry sack hard instead and kept the pressure increasing as he sucked.

The mutant growled and hissed as the fingers tightened on his hair. The cock flexed in his mouth and nearly choked him when it began to come. His habit of pulling away prior was forgotten – he didn’t want to stop. Opening his mouth wide and swallowing as much of it as he could, he tried not to gag on it.

Tony released the abused scrotum as Victor pulled back to let his cock fall from his lips. The fingers in his hair let go, and the mutant nearly crashed onto his knees in front of him, held his face, and shoved their mouths together in a rough kiss.

Stomach fluttering at the thought of the sharp teeth, his head spun a little when Victor slowed down and took more care. Finally breaking the kiss, that scratchy tongue licked up every drop of cum from his mouth and artistically trimmed facial hair.

Victor wilted and pressed his forehead against Tony’s before he let out a soft sigh. Looking down, Tony watched the gleaming metal claws slowly disappear again into the thick fingers as they settled on his jeans.

“I need to change my workout – I should start lifting a dumbbell with my mouth. You are magnificent. Seriously, I don’t normally stick around long enough to swallow – to be honest, I don’t often get down on my knees at all without the incentive of a gun held to my head.”

Tony leaned back and stood. He hesitated with fingers plucking at the hem of his t-shirt as the feral remained on his knees, staring up at him like a supplicant.

_Is the latest maybe fix really a fix? Test 202 is holding so far. I have the emergency palladium ingot tucked in with the suit if that changes in a hurry. Borrow his bathroom, keep it under wraps… Wow, I should not be here, shouldn’t be getting naked in front of him. Well, if the test fails or ... anything else happens ... he’ll already know it by scent. I haven’t been with anyone but him in an alarming while – lately just via phone but still – going insane in general, why not add this to the rest of my catalogue of mistakes? Damn, look at him. He already knows, doesn’t he? Of course he does. So I’m not risking anything. Yeah. I need this – I need what he can do to me. Hell, I need to be touched. Screw it._

Pushing all the concerns and potential problems away, he stripped right there as if he were jumping off a cliff. He didn’t dare glance down at his chest, hoping it still looked normal – or what passed for normal these days.

“Got a bathtub?”

“Yeah.”

Reaching down, he stroked the slightly damp long and thick blond braid. “Come on, Blondie – I’m going to need you to fuck me in it.”

He stared at the thigh as Victor rose with smooth easy grace. A large hand covered where the gaping hole had been and Tony looked away from it.

“Don’t fuss,” Victor told him, his tone soft. “It healed, an’ I asked ya t’ do it.”

Standing next to him, Tony slid his fingers over the feral’s and twined them together when the palm lifted. “I know, I just… I’m still sorry.”

Moving off with a soft smile ghosting on his lips, Victor tugged at his hand and didn’t let it go for the trip to the bathroom.

“Oh, I’m all ‘bout lettin’ ya make it up t’ me.”

Tony chuckled at the wink he got. “You aren’t going to miss that pompous weasel.”

“Only one pompous weasel I bother with missin’.”

“Hey – I am not a weasel. Pompous, yes – occasionally … and a chatterbox.”

“Yup.”

“Unless you didn’t mean me. I walked into that. It’s been a busy day.”

“Don’t play poker much, do ya?”

“Here and there. I prefer craps and roulette.”

“Good thing.” That sharp smirk flashed at him over a broad shoulder. “Fer tha record – did mean ya.”

Tony laughed, delighted. He felt weirdly at ease with the last person who should have made him feel that way.

_If I’m being honest about this, there’s a definite thrills factor here, too – beyond being horny as hell because I can’t risk anyone finding out about the palladium problem. Victor called me a danger whore in the Arctic. It is delicious to be at ease with someone who is in the running for the title Most Dangerous Mutant Alive. If he is ‘a monster’, well ... maybe he’s sort of my monster._

 

*****************************************************************

 **Author’s Note:** “Volcado” is Spanish for “tipped over” (or dump). It is a term associated with a move in Argentine Tango when you dip your partner backward while in hold. As a chapter title, it’s also a play on words for the English word volcano: (second definition) “an intense suppressed emotion or situation liable to burst out suddenly”, which fits this chapter rather well. I still don’t own Hello Kitty and Tony’s rabbit holes thought is an _Alice in Wonderland_ reference.

I first heard the term “crawfished a bet” in the 1993 movie Tombstone. Originally, this story was intended to just be a fun sexy lark – then the boys got all intense on me and I just let them run with it. This was also going to be a one-shot, but then it got hideously lengthy. This is what my OTP does to me. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm  (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm-blog.tumblr.com)

*****************************************************************


	2. Sentada

It’s dark in here, visions are flashing into my head  
as I reminisce my reoccurring dreams and you said  
I’m falling, falling for you babe  
my feelings are getting stronger  
So why don’t you stay with me for a little longer  
Come here boy, come here boy yeah  
Come here boy, come here boy

I know that my face is only too familiar to your sleep  
I can see it in your eyes and I can tell by your body heat  
Why are you taking so long?  
You need me to come and find you, honey?  
Set your mind at rest, let your dreams run free  
Come here boy, come here boy yeah  
Come here boy, come here boy

You know I’m no stranger in your dreams  
You know I’m no stranger in your dreams  
Oh and I’m craving, I’m howling, I’m begging, I’m pleading  
You’re mine tonight, oh yeah  
Oh and I’m waiting, I’m dying, I’m wanting and I’m needing  
to show you the slut I am  
where I’ll be touching and holding, caressing and giving you  
every fantasy, yeah  
I’ve got you dreaming and lusting, I’m burning and praying  
for more of this ecstasy  
come here boy, come here boy yeah  
come here boy, come here boy  
You know, you know  
You know I’m no stranger in your dreams

~ Come Here Boy (Imogen Heap)

*****************************************************************

Victor leading him by the hand was a bit odd – was it meant to be affectionate and not just a joke?

_Pepper would probably tell me to get a tarantula if I want a dangerous pet that freaks people out – but Victor isn’t a pet. So ... what is he? What he may want to be might not be something I agree with. I’m probably skipping through a mine field and too horny to notice or care._

Tony still didn’t try to free his hand until Victor let it go. Being touched – being wanted – felt too good. With a shake of his head, he looked around to dispel his tangled thoughts.

The bathroom was like a large private spa. Not surprisingly, the shower was huge and the tub looked more like a Jacuzzi for eight people – maybe ten. One side of it had a raised and padded platform that he fully intended to be lying on in the near future. There was also a massive divan next to the shower that had potential.

Tony leaned against the tub platform. “We have to wait for this thing to fill? Should we turn on the news to watch the oceans drain while it does?”

“It goes pretty fast. Get up there, on yer belly. Gonna fetch yer alms lube.”

“Oh, hell yeah…” he said with a grin and got exactly where he had wanted to be.

Once Victor returned, he got the tub started and steam slowly began to curl around the room. Tony watched him wind the braid up and pin it into a man-bun at the back of his head with a small piece of hard leather and a carved thin wooden stick. To hide an amused smile, he set his forehead on his crossed wrists.

Some sort of herb smell was abruptly strong around them and before he could turn his head to look, those big hands were smoothing massage oil up his back.

“Is that sage?”

“Got it in one.”

“This is new. Oh, wow … okay, are you firm on the ‘I can’t put you on my payroll’ thing?”

“Don’t make me stick a washcloth in yer gob.”

“Gob? Now you’re British?”

“Collectin’ slang from ‘round tha globe is a hobby.”

“I see that. You love hearing me talk. Oh, God… Where did you learn how to do that?”

“Didn’t, just know what feels good t’ me. A masseuse comes in; it helps even me out, after… She’s probly better’n me at it.”

“Awesome. What’s her name?”

“No idea.”

Tony sighed but decided to pick his battles. Besides, it had taken him years to remember the name of his dishwasher.

It didn’t take long before the mutant had him turned into putty – putty with a distracting erection. Finally, there were fingers spreading his asscheeks open and a Sylk-slicked thumb began to toy with him before it eased inside.

“No rushin’ me,” Victor told him. “What I want…”

Counting breaths as only the sound of filling water struck his ears, Tony whispered to encourage him, “Tell me, Victor.”

“Wanna worship ya,” the feral replied in a rush.

Tony smiled. “Darn.”

A flash of the curling smirk was wiped out by a gruff bark of irritation. “Shut up.”

He would have laughed again, teasing him was a riot, but he gasped instead at the introduction of that tongue working inside him.

“Do you want me to be quiet? Don’t answer that, I like your tongue right where it is – unless you want to replace it with something bigger.”

He quit talking, but mostly because he couldn’t stop a groan as he was made ready for what they both needed.

_The cleft chin is smooth – almost heaven. He’s such a weird combination of rough and soft. When he tries to be gentle, he seems to have no idea how to do it, so he overcompensates and it’s like watching a T-Rex try to be a butterfly. He’s better than I am at asking for what he wants, too – sometimes. Still, ‘light and fun’ as a theme seems to facilitate communication a lot... Maybe that’s where I’m messing up on the Pepper front?_

The moment it all stopped and the mutant gripped and moved his hips, Tony bonelessly let him place him however he wanted to. Almost too hot for him, the water surrounded his legs up to the knees as he kept his arms folded under his head on the platform.

With a click, the lube bottle was closed and then he got what he had wanted since that insane moment in the women’s bathroom; except this time, the blunt thing was actually lined up and ready to stuff him full.

Replaying it over in his head, he could still feel the sting of Victor telling him no, and how he had pushed him for it…

_Oh, hell._

Tony groaned again as he was filled from behind. Even opened so skillfully, for a cock slicked up and trying to be careful, the size of it still hovered on the cusp of pain as it pushed slowly deeper.

Again, it was a stunning mix of trying to be smooth and easy but not quite managing it at every thrust. The feel of the foreskin moving here and there was fascinating, to say nothing of the hot breath and press of the round front of the fangs at his back. When the barbed tongue licked wide, scraping up his spine, Tony cried out in pleasure. The lips moving to his bite scars and sucking at the skin was delicious torture.

“I want it,” he whispered, “do it…” He turned his head in time to watch the tips of the huge fangs slice in and stared as the suckling began. “Yes, drink… Oh God, do it.” The moment the tongue moved and the fangs started to pull out, he gasped. “No, not yet – I can take it… Do it, take more.”

It felt so strange, so … wrong, like he should fight it – and because of that, it felt good enough to shut his mind down. He was shocked to snap back into full awareness when the fangs left his bleeding flesh. A protest died on dry lips as Victor ignored the attempt to urge him further. Soothing and painful at once, the tongue and lips pressed down over the puncture wounds.

Their eyes met when the bleeding was stopped. Victor’s lips were smeared scarlet.

“Kiss me,” Tony whispered. The taste was sharp, ferrous ... taboo. He licked it from the lips and deepened the kiss as the thrusts inside his body grew jerky and rough.

Victor broke the kiss and nuzzled his ear, murmuring, “Hard t’ hold it back, t’ be easy.”

“Don’t – I like it when you fuck me rough.”

“Could hurt ya.”

“You won’t, you don’t want to. Victor, I trust you, you know that – do it.”

The fingers gripped his shoulders and he watched the claws on one hand grow, rising up in an arch that pushed the lethal point out, and then the curl grew them to their full wicked length.

“Prick me with those – I love those things. Fuck me, do it how you want to.”

The growl he got sank into his balls, and when the cock slammed in hard and the claws broke his skin, he watched beads of blood well up. As the first one slipped and spilled a streak of red down his shoulder, Tony cried out as he came, writhing helplessly under Victor’s weight. The trapped mess sprayed up the side of the tub right as the water began to lap at his sack.

“Oh shit, oh…”

“Tony…?”

“Don’t stop – don’t you fucking dare stop…” The cock dragged back and shoved in, his speed increasing. “Fuck me, do it … push me…”

He cried out again, this time with a light-headed twinge of pain as the cock finally began to shudder and spill deep inside him.

“Yes … hell, yes…” he whispered to encourage the beast that thrust once more, until the thing stopped at last, still buried nearly to the root.

The nuzzling, sniffing, and licking started and it made a sharp chuckle burst from his lips as his brain started to spin. The cock barely softened at all in him as the water rose up past his hips.

“Keep it in, go again,” he whispered.

Tony moaned when the mutant withdrew instead. Large hands took over his body, and the claws were gone as he was picked up from the platform and turned.

The next brain spin was not pleasant, and he scrambled to grab hold of the forearms, leery of the rising water.

“Hush,” the rasping murmur sounded at his ear.

He couldn’t stop tensing until he was abruptly lounging on Victor in a formed chair on the other side of the tub. He twitched as the water rose higher.

“Let it have ya, it ain’t too hot. I got ya.”

Tony closed his eyes and listened to Victor turning a tap, his body tilting slightly when he reached over the edge to do it. They settled and Tony waited for his head to stop spinning. Victor’s arms held him in place loosely.

_Geez, he can smell fear. Is he going to think bathtubs scare me?_

An insane impulse to tell him about the water torture he had survived in Afghanistan almost got hold of his tongue.

 _I’m not sure a torturer would be empathy guy for that information. Has he done that to people?_ Tony felt queasy at the thought and then shuddered. _With all those pointy bits, why would he use water? Man, I need a drink._ “Mexico City,” he blurted out instead, “tequila and a lady pilot and low self-esteem, mine not hers, led to more tequila…”

“José Cuervo, ya are a friend o’ mine,” Victor half-sang in a surprisingly disjointed baritone as he murdered the old Country tune.

“Wow. You need a lonely back fence to sit on if you’re going to do that.”

The feral snorted and asked, “Did ya dance on tha bar or start any fights?”

Victor’s rich deep speaking voice rumbled up through the broad chest under Tony’s head. He vaguely wanted to crawl inside it, and then laughed almost drunkenly at the silliness of the thought.

“No, we never made it out of the hotel suite. I was a brat – fourteen. I was supposed to be in boarding school nowhere near Mexico, but I was bored and she was gorgeous. She worked for Stark Industries.” Tony shrugged. “It was fun until it wasn’t.”

“Drank too much.”

“Oh, yeah.”

Soft lips kissed his hair. “Meant me, ya need orange juice.”

“Now I know the secret of the orchard,” Tony whispered, laying the drama on thick.

The low gruff chuckle overhead sank into his bones, a confusing shift from the earlier stray fear. That uniquely leonine deep voice made him want to wallow in his companion – not at all a normal impulse for him.

_This is usually the moment I begin to plot my escape, but there’s no workshop to hide in and I ... don’t want to move. Well, that’s new. Despite the water, and his criminal record, I feel ... safe. Is this what Victor’s pilot meant about the advantages of him liking me?_

“Tha OJ’s in tha fridge, genius.” The voice half-purred through the words.

Tony couldn’t have kept the abrupt grin off his face with a power drill. _Victor relaxed enough to tease me tonight: score._ “What’s the deal, Tall Fanged and Furry – don’t I rate freshly-squeezed?”

“Nope, ya don’t.”

The temperature of the water he was immersed in crept up and unwound the tension in every muscle. Humor melted into muzzy contentment.

“This feels good. If I pass out, don’t let me drown.”

“Not even t’ shut ya up.”

The deep breathing that gently moved his body was mesmerizing. He barely noticed that his head had stopped spinning as he drifted off to sleep.

*****************************************************************

Victor set the large glass tumbler of cold orange juice on the nightstand where Tony would see it when he woke. The impulse to climb in and cuddle up warred with the desire to watch as Tony Stark slept in his bed – clean, but still smelling like a rag doll full of his seed and scent.

 _That ain’t all he smells like._ A soft growl failed to cut the thought off. _Ya know he don’t wanna jaw ‘bout that; bring it up an’ he’ll shut ya down, might could bail entire._

Having real time with Tony, not on a phone or in the middle of some shit-show, was a rare thing. He wanted to make it last but it was probably a one nighter.

_Can’t help wantin’ t’ try t’ help, if’n he’d stand fer it – which he won’t. Got no way t’ give ‘im my healin’, anyhow. I ain’t what he needs t’ fix it, whatever it is. Think o’ somethin’ else before he figs out yer gettin’ down ‘bout it an’ sorts out why._

He sifted through the events of the night for something to focus on that wasn’t pure lust. The effort to dry off the boneless inventor while making him drink the first batch of juice had been entertaining.

_Rusty on my aftercare skills – ain’t bothered in a while. So pick a symptom an’ take a stab at makin’ it better._

Going through the suite, he gathered up just a few of the Himalayan salt candle holders and relit the sage candles, setting them here and there around the bedroom. He went to fetch the gift of Glenfiddich and the lube bottle and set them on his nightstand before finally joining his lover in bed. Tony woke when he was pulled in close.

“OJ,” Victor ordered, pointing.

“I’d rather have what you’re having.”

“OJ first, hero.”

Tony sighed as he picked up the tumbler and propped himself up half against him and half on the pillow stack he was leaning on. Drinking down some of it, he held it out. “Top a fellow off?”

“Should make ya finish it first. That ain’t how ya make a screwdriver.”

“I improvise when necessary.”

Victor grunted and opened the scotch bottle. He poured a finger or two into the juice and then put the bottle to his lips and gulped some before setting it back down.

“Don’t break that one all over you. My palm still hurts.”

“Once is probly ‘nuff fer one day.”

“Also, I plan to get more of it than this – FYI.” Tony drank the juice without protest with booze in the glass. “Why did you break the bottle like that?”

“Danger ramps ya up an’ a li’l pain with my pleasure ramps me.”

“Before you, I wouldn’t have agreed – but those claws, the biting … yeah. I get it.”

The inventor breathed deep, seemingly finding the sage as soothing as he did – yet the silent introspective moment didn’t stand a chance.

“You and candles – less is more this time, you can be taught.”

“Himalayan salt candle holders purify tha air. Dunno how, but it’s good fer ya. Deal.”

“That particular salt emits a decent number of negative ions into the atmosphere when it’s heated. They – the negative ions – attach themselves to airborne particles like dust, pollen, smoke, and cause them to drop from the air.”

Victor purred at him. “Gotta get ya t’ say that crap on a phone message.”

“So you can choke the bishop to my scientific wisdom? You certainly have some weird turn-ons.” He started to relax under the purring but then tensed again. “Can I tell you something? I need to … apologize to you.”

“Ya already did an’ it ain’t necessary, now or then. Told ya that.”

“No, earlier, in the resort’s bathroom stall. You said no to fucking me, and I mowed right over that.”

“Don’t matter.”

“It does. Here I am trying to teach you consent –”

Victor snorted, unable to help it. “Still claimin’ that’s a legit thing?”

“Don’t scoff, I’m being serious, and yes, because it is a legitimate thing. I’m trying to teach you consent – and then I ignored yours because I wanted it, and … you were the only one concerned about my safety. That’s a crappy way to behave, and I’m sorry. That scent, though, your scent – it’s like sexual nerve gas, geez. If I could do that, I’d be downright dangerous.”

“Ya do, an’ ya are.”

“I’ve never experienced that except with you. I splash mine on after a shave and hope the superficial charm works when it needs to. I can’t … emit it … like a bioweapon for getting laid.”

Victor leaned in and nuzzled at his hair, scenting it. “Ya do, Tony – t’ my senses, when ya want sex, yer heat can mess me up.”

“It’s still not the same.”

“Maybe not t’ ya. Flatscans –”

“Humans … people…”

“Yeah, those. Yer precious civilization killed off or bred out most o’ tha wild instincts an’ talents ya might coulda had way back when. Lotsa mutants are in tha same boat, though, truth be told. Us ferals ain’t like that – we’re still tapped int’ tha wild things that tha rest o’ ya left behind ages ago.”

“Why do you still hate Wolverine so much? You said his claw lobotomy gave you an advantage. Shouldn’t you be wilderness buddies or something?”

The brief snarl that lifted his upper lip was involuntary. “Tappin’ int’ tha wild is partly why we hate each other – we ain’t tha same kind, ya know. Fer tha rest, don’t rightly recall why, an’ he don’t recall shit.”

“So why keep up the feud?”

“Not rememberin’ how it started don’t mean we ain’t given each other plenty o’ reasons between then an’ now. Ya gonna make nice with that Stane asshole after he tried t’ steal yer tech an’ yer comp’ny, just cuz yer both inventors? If’n he wasn’t dead.”

“No, and point taken, I suppose. Dropping it.”

“Much obliged.”

Tony drank more and chuckled. “I love it when you do that.”

“What?”

Craning his head up to meet his gaze, Tony smiled at him. “Talk like some grand old movie.”

Victor smirked down at him. “Finish that an’ stab me with yer dick already.”

“You’re so romantic, too.”

“May hafta give that up fer Lent; all it does is make ya bail.”

“I do not. Please tell me that’s a joke, and you aren’t Catholic. Seriously, I’d mind less if you really were into Voodoo.”

Victor arched an eyebrow at him. “It’s a joke.”

“Oh, good – in that case I’ll stab you with my dick.” He began to roll to his stomach, but Tony stopped him with a hand on his shoulder. “I still want to see you, quit trying to hide. How tight a fold can you put yourself in, cat-boy?”

Grinning, Victor slid down the pile of pillows, curled his lower body and lifted his knees until they were bent at his shoulders. With a chuckle, Tony rearranged pillows and stuffed a few of them under his ass before he set his knees on either side of it. His hands began to play and tease – letting their dicks harden as they touched and rubbed together.

“You know, I shouldn’t be doing all this barebacking, I swear I never do, otherwise. I don’t have a healing factor, and even though it’s safe in some ways, with you – it’s still not … something I should be doing. I also really don’t need to slip up down the road with someone of the non-mutant persuasion.”

“Bit late t’ fuss now – lessen ya brought rubbers, I sure as fuck don’t stock tha damn things. Never wear ‘em, ain’t gonna.” He set his ankles on Tony’s shoulders lightly, working on keeping the claws in. “‘Sides, ya’d know ya ain’t fuckin’ me when they squeal like a pig cuz ya also forgot all ‘bout prep.”

Tony’s hands slapped Victor’s hips on a bark of laughter. “Okay, I admit it – you’re the perfect bed toy, even with that offensive potty mouth.” He leaned to snag the lube and tossed it on the bed after he slicked up.

The rough press in made Victor hold his breath and then the smooth full push to claim him again released it. He nearly moaned the man’s name but bit it back – not wanting to make him bolt.

_It’s play, keep it light, that’s what he wants. Just play. Tony…_

Victor didn’t close his eyes when he was mated; he wanted to watch his lover crumble apart as he took his pleasure in him. The fierce passion the inventor displayed in rut was as delicious as the soft surrender he sometimes gave him when pressed under Victor’s cock. He swallowed when it all became almost too much, feeling the hard beautiful thing thrust even deeper inside him as Tony pressed down lower over him. Gasping out, he kept his claws in the mattress.

“Kiss me,” Tony told him with quiet intensity.

Curling up to reach, the cock pushed deeper when the kiss stole his breath.

Tony broke it as his thrusts turned urgent. His arms gripped around Victor’s legs as he muttered, “Oh, geez, so good, I forgot how good, damn…”

 _‘Mine…’_ Victor stared up at the heavy-lidded dark eyes, remembering his lover’s voice when he had said that word in his workshop. The memory of that moment, with Tony’s cock driving into him now as it had been then, was all he needed. He came quietly, spiraling into a euphoria that he already knew wouldn’t last. His seed spouted up his belly but he ignored it to watch his lover, trying to imbed in his memories the image of him in the midst of pure release.

Gleaming with sweat, Tony closed his eyes and a heartbeat later, he began to come. Huffing and groaning, he ground his body against Victor’s and rode out the delicious aftershocks, still thrusting, until it ended. He was left sucking in desperate breaths as he leaned his weight against Victor’s folded legs.

_He’s perfect, he’s … everythin’._

Those shining eyes, the soft light dancing in them, opened to look down into Victor’s. For one moment, Tony was his – until the expression shifted and he looked away and withdrew.

“Got to move before something cramps. Wow.” He shifted away and flopped down over the lube bottle. “Ow.” Fishing it out, he handed it to Victor.

Stifling a sigh, he put it back on the nightstand and stretched out beside him in the scattered mess of pillows. Burying the urge to touch the man and draw him close, he worked on slowing his breathing until the claws retracted.

“Why’s it been so long fer ya? Ain’t no such thing as too busy t’ fuck. If’n all ya want’s a warm body, yer money’s ‘nuff o’ a draw fer volunteers o’ tha shallow stripe.”

“I’m perfectly capable of ‘too busy to fuck’ but usually it’s more like too distracted, too involved with … inventing things.”

 _Ain’t had nobody but me in a while._ Victor wanted to be proud of that, wanted to wish it could turn into hope – but it wouldn’t. _He’s here cuz I won’t tell anyone he smells ill. Makes me a safe bet an’ a sure thing – not a first pick. He’s also bein’ evasive, distant. Tha balls’re lighter, so I’ve served my damn purpose, I guess. Karma’s a bitch – if Tabitha could see me now._

The sound of the device in the scarred chest mixed with Tony’s irregular wounded heartbeat. It was as soothing as ever, solely because it was uniquely … him. Yet mating with him had a price. Wanting and unwanted, he hung in limbo, afraid to feel anything at all. Beneath a carefully constructed façade of sated indifference, emotions that only compounded his confusion began to tangle.

*****************************************************************

Tony lay on his back feeling every muscle slowly relax into post-coitus jelly – until he noticed that the bedroom was too quiet. He almost spoke aloud to ask JARVIS to play music.

 _Is Mr. Fluffy getting his brood on again? Well, that won’t do._ “Tell me a bedtime story, old man – give me some crass intel on having a good time – maybe there’s something I haven’t done yet.”

“Man o’ tha world, huh – seen it all?”

“Most of it. Although, in the interest of full disclosure, as sex goes, I can’t say I’ve done it all. I’m too into getting some and getting gone in order to get back to working on projects. Elaborate slap and tickle efforts and whatnot take too long. I assume you’re a vast source of intel on the topic of erotica’s outer limits.”

“I’ve dabbled.”

“I bet. So – impart your wisdom.” The feral had all the body language of someone who was humoring him as he began to speak. _Do I care? Any port in an awkward storm._

“When a bitch –”

“Yikes. Let me help you with that. When a woman…”

“Yeah. When they sit on yer dick t’ fuck ya in a limo, ya ain’t livin’ if’n ya don’t get their panties an’ drape ‘em over yer face when ya lean back.”

Tony frowned at bit, perplexed and slightly repulsed at once. “Why would you do that?”

“Aroma therapy – better’n tha sage oil durin’ a massage any fuckin’ day.”

“You are a bad influence – and weird.”

“Did ya or did ya not request ‘crass’?”

Tony sighed. “I did, my bad. I forgot your standards for that were lower than mine.”

“I’d need a periscope t’ get my mind outta tha gutter, fancy boy. ‘Sides, it’s a feral thing – pussy smells good, even dirty pussy.”

“Oh, my god, where is the off switch?”

“Yer just jealous, stumblin’ ‘round in that cage o’ stunted meager senses.”

“I’ll remind you of that heightened-senses advantage over by a dumpster someday.”

“Mmm, sex in a grubby dark alley can be fun if’n yer stuffed just right. Ya ever wanna try it, I know just tha spot.”

“Your fondness for luxury mixed with your craving for filthy slumming is quite unique.”

“Careful, now – even with all o’ that squeamish, talent like me can get addictin’.”

“Too late. However, you don’t have to wait until we need to strike a deal over a mutual target to get me in bed. ‘Phones still work’, as someone I really enjoy having sex with once said.”

“Maybe if’n ya answered yers once in a while,” the feral muttered.

 _So that calculated bit of sacrificial cheer-up fell on its face._ “I responded right away to your last out of the blue text – points for being in a firefight at the time, no less. It isn’t anyone’s fault that we’re both so busy, plus being on opposite sides of the globe most of the time.”

“Let’s not do this again, huh?”

“Which part?” Tony copied him and stared up at the reactor’s blue light on the ceiling.

“How ‘bout we stay outta each other’s work-related sandboxes from here on out?”

Tony grinned, unable to help it. “The effort to not make a litter box joke is hurting my face.”

“Hardeehar. Ya can keep yer global domination terrorist types an’ lay offa my petty criminals, mobsters, an’ general bottom feeders. Deal?”

“Hmm. No – I see a snag in that plan. You have a serious mad-on for Hydra but they definitely make a tick mark on my global terrorists side.”

“We can share Hydra.”

“Yay!”

“Goof.”

Tony sat up and faced him. Victor didn’t look at him until he reached out and touched his shoulder. The moment he began to speak, the blond looked away again.

“There are some lines I can’t promise I won’t cross if something like this comes up again, even if you’re involved. I have to ask. Paganucci was funding domestic terrorists. That doesn’t bother you? What if they bombed a place where you had friends?”

“They’d pay fer it.”

“That wouldn’t bring your friends back.”

“Humans kill each other all tha time. Take me an’ ‘im outta tha runnin’, that wouldn’t stop.”

Tony sighed and then smiled at him, though he was not quite able to maintain it. “I know. This is going to be one of those things where we just have to curb the shop talk and the morality discussions or we won’t be able to deal.”

“Yup.”

The mutant’s amber eyes finally shifted to look up at him. Tony would bet good money they were both pretending a lot right then.

“That mean yer gonna quit harpin’ at me ‘bout sexism an’ misogyny?”

“No, it doesn’t mean that.”

“Fuck.”

Lying back down and rolling onto his side to face Victor, he tried to morph the smile into a real one. “Nap break?”

“Gonna stay fer breakfast?”

“Sure.” Surprised when the feral didn’t move in to hold him, Tony scooted over and pressed into him. “I’m a little cold,” he offered for explanation. _Something’s wrong, again – no clue how to fix it. Ice breaking maybe? Random questions often irritate him but anything is better than silent disapproval._ After too long a stretch of that uncomfortable silence, he asked, “Were you born furry?”

“Nope.”

“So when did it, ah ... mutate?”

“Didn’t McCoy already give ya all tha science dirt on me?”

“Well...”

“Was ‘round nine or ten. Mutation started, puberty went off at tha same bad time. It wasn’t a picnic. Ya done?”

“Puberty at nine? Eep. I can be, yes – about that at any rate.”

“Weren’t ya plannin’ t’ get yer nap on?”

“Call it a second, or fifth, wind – if you’re still in the mood to humor me?”

*****************************************************************

Victor pulled him in close and nuzzled his hair, partly to avoid his inquisitive expression. “One question. Shoot.”

“Why aren’t you still on the public version of the FBI’s Ten Most Wanted Fugitives list? You used to be, on an older list – before the digital age.”

“Bad fer their image.”

“Ah, how?”

“Kinda embarrassin’ t’ keep me on it. They can’t do shit ‘bout me whether they catch me or not. Why advertise tha fact? They like fer those mugshots t’ change out now an’ then, when they get one. If’n I’m on tha list longer than tha Bureau chiefs are on tha job an’ no progress made on stoppin’ me, just makes ‘em look like chumps, don’t it?”

“Huh. I guess so.”

“Damn straight.”

“They’ve never caught you?”

“That’s a new question.”

“You know you’d rather talk to me than watch me sleep.”

A quiet growl sounded but faded quickly. “Not tha current crop, not fer long – but once they try an’ fail t’ execute a guy a few times, gets tougher t’ wipe that egg offa their faces.”

Tony let out a soft whistle. “What methods did they try to use on you?”

“Most o’ ‘em.”

“Old Sparky?”

“Yup.”

“Wow. What did that feel like?”

Victor frowned. “Felt like bein’ electrocuted.”

“Okay, duh. Sorry,” Tony muttered, looking sheepish. “I can’t help being a little fascinated.”

“Their bosses start measurin’ ‘em fer rubber rooms, too – if’n they insist a guy that looks thirty years old killed some idiot in 1920. Nowadays, they pretty much don’t bug me. Evidence that’s found an’ proven t’ be mine, they just set those on tha ‘unsolved’ pile an’ live t’ fight ‘nother day.”

“I know we can’t see eye to eye on this, but I feel bad for their families and friends – the people you kill. Not knowing why your loved ones died or who killed them – it’s a bad way to live. It never really goes away. Maybe it sounds trite to you, but people need closure – if they loved the ones who died. Didn’t you ever lose someone you cared about?”

Victor reached to touch the beads in his hair reflexively, but he wasn’t wearing the pieces of bone. _Michel. Bonnie…_

“Of course – sorry. I need to wash my feet more often if I’m going to keep sticking them in my mouth.”

Swallowing hard, unable to be angry with him for the slip, Victor pushed the black hole of loss down deep again. He waited to speak until he was sure his voice wouldn’t falter. “I got ‘closure’ in spades – it ain’t never helped an’ couldn’t bring ‘em back, neither, like ya said. Closure’s a bloody farce.”

“I’m still messed up over my parents’ car accident, which wasn’t even a murder, but it … was weird. Most people assume he was drunk, but that doesn’t make sense – Howard Stark didn’t go around driving into trees. He was allergic to screwing up. I often end up drunk, just trying to sort it out in my head – make sense of the loss … of my mother.”

Victor nuzzled him again. “Weapon X mighta plugged a memory in my head o’ Ma jumpin’ in tha middle when Pa tried t’ take tha axe t’ me. Got no clue if’n she died between us or if that’s a lie. No real way t’ know near a century an’ a half later, lessen tha real memory claws its way up outta tha swamp someday.”

“Oh my god … an axe? The legendary Howard Stark decided neglecting me was a more efficient use of his time as a father, but he never went all _The Shining_ on me. Whether or not it was a real memory … was your mother good to you, at least?”

“Don’t really remember. Sometimes, I guess – but she never cut me loose from what he was doin’ t’ me.”

“And no CPS, no police...”

“No nothin’ – it was tha wild frontier with native tribes still attackin’ farms now an’ then. Some o’ tha crops that farm an’ garden grew don’t even exist no more. Whole world was diff’rent.”

Tony sighed. “Topic change. Are you one of those assassins who say, ‘It’s just a job to me’?”

“Technically it is … but no – wouldn’t say that.”

“Why not?”

“Cuz I love what I do – most o’ tha time. Ya like yer work cuz yer good at it, ya get t’ use yer natural talents t’ make a buck – ain’t no diff’rent fer me.”

“Now I’m intrigued by ‘most of the time’. Why would you sometimes not enjoy it – especially since you claim to like killing and you get to pick your targets?”

Victor huffed out a breath. “There’s times I ain’t up t’ snuff, would rather go crawl in a hole fer a while, but gotta be takin’ care o’ business. I get done fast as I can then an’ go t’ ground, try t’ get my head back on straight.”

“You are me, I get that. Some missions come up when all I want to do is sleep, work on projects, get my itch scratched … or tinker on a car to relax. So you just work and play in general, no hobbies beyond the slang collection – besides stalking me?”

Victor hesitated, surprised when Tony gave him the time and space to make up his mind about opening up or not. _What can it hurt? Might could be a non-felony feather in my cap._ “Wait here, I’ll get my laptop.”

When he returned with it, Tony was smiling at him. “Please tell me your hobby isn’t internet porn – unless you star in it, because that would be awesome.”

Victor sat and turned it on, setting it between them on the bed. “No ribbin’ me ‘bout not havin’ holograms, neither.”

Tony put fingers to his lips and mimed locking them with a twinkle in his eye. It was adorable. Shaking his head a little to focus, Victor got the browser open and went to the website for the Sanctuary.

“This is one o’ my hobbies, but I’m on tha down-low with it, cuz it has t’ be a legit group without underworld ties, so…”

Tony sat up straight and leaned in. “Mum’s the word. Wait – big cat rescue and rehabilitation? Wow. They even have a state-of-the-art veterinary center onsite. Very eco-cool, I am officially impressed. Are you like Dr. Doolittle, can you talk to the animals and tell them they’re being rescued?”

“Don’t work like that, but I do spend time helpin’ with rehab, yeah – ‘specially when they’re gonna be placed at a reserve an’ gotta be taught how t’ hunt, if’n they were some rich asshole’s pet as a cub an’ dunno how.”

“That is beyond what I expected. So can anyone donate?”

“If ya want.”

“I want. I think an even million ought to do it. After all, I’ve become so fond of large predators lately.”

His wink and warm expression made Victor purr. He watched as Tony pulled the computer onto his lap.

“Does down-low mean I have to be an anonymous donor?”

“Nope, just me.”

“Excellent.” Tony began tapping away, lightning fast, to register as a supporter. He logged in and dropped a million dollar donation.

Victor chuckled. “Liane’s gonna freak.”

“Who is that?”

“She runs it fer me an’ plays go-between, so’s I can stay in tha loop. Remember when ya called ‘bout tha Memory Image Inducer an’ I thought ya were a woman wantin’ more phone sex? She’s who I thought ya were.”

“Oh, well – a female friend of yours, how about that. So if I hit ‘contact us’ and asked for a tour of the facility, would I get to meet her?”

“With a donation like that, probly.”

Tony handed the laptop back and Victor shut it down and put it on the nightstand.

“Would that be okay with you? I promise not to dig up secrets, I’m just curious about meeting someone like her.”

“Don’t bother me none.”

“Maybe you should go with me sometime, Mufasa – I’d love to see you teach Simba how to hunt.”

Victor smirked. “We could take ‘er an’ ‘er daughter t’ dinner. Mya’s too li’l t’ know better an’ loves lions, so I’m ‘er fave person.”

“That is a definite plan – my treat. We just need to figure out a when. Vancouver is a great city for a mini-vacation and I’m overdue for one.”

Having a plan, even if it didn’t happen right away – or ever – made him purr again. He turned toward him and leaned in to nuzzle the man, pleased when he seemed receptive more than simply tolerant.

“Not teasing you, but I’m sorely tempted to upgrade your laptop. Even state-of-the-art is obsolete right out of the box. The solution: eliminate the box.”

“Don’t that break yer condition o’ not handin’ me toys that make me a better criminal?”

“Hmm... Maybe that’s more negotiable than previously assessed.”

Victor brushed his lips over the smooth forehead and smiled. “‘Specially when yer horny starts kickin’ back in?”

“Undoubtedly – it’s inevitable, really.” Tony clambered up to sit facing him on his lap and kissed him. “Remember when you put me here in a ‘modified seal tunnel’? This is how that could have gone if I’d known then what I was missing.”

The make-out session that followed, with groping hands on both sides, became a pleasure all its own. Tony’s weight on his hardening cock turned into a low thrum of heat that almost relaxed him, rather than making him impatient to mate. His lover was warming to that again and it would happen, but this was something to savor.

Setting his lips almost on Victor’s, Tony whispered, “I have my moments when I don’t want to be touched, and then there’s times like now when I can’t get enough of it. This is good – just basking in pleasure, in-between getting our mutual freak on. I assume you’re on board – considering what I’m sitting on.”

“Fine by me,” he muttered, because Tony seemed to want a real verbal response.

“Tell me something you’ve done for me that you’ve never done before.”

“Ain’t never crawfished a bet before, lessen tha idiot involved got dead fer betrayin’ me.”

“It was for a good cause.”

“Mmm… Fuckin’ ya is a good cause.”

“See?” Tony smiled. “All this crawfishing – you sound like a walking Spaghetti Western.”

“Ya like my ‘anachronisms’ – even called me a mook. Nobody says mook anymore, flyboy.”

Tony moved off him and rolled onto his stomach, tossing the lube at him. “Shut up and fuck me again, you mook.”

“T’ tha devil with yer nap, then?”

The inventor frowned slightly but then wiped it away and gave him a wink. “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.”

Victor moved over him and paused to nuzzle and lick his back between the shoulder blades, mixing in warm kisses as a knee spread the legs wider.

“How ya want it?” he whispered over the smooth skin, making the man shudder with heat.

“Worship me.”

The smirk melted into a soft smile. He nipped gently at the tip of a shoulder blade with his blunt front teeth and murmured, “Yes, Tony.”

He was opened more easily this time. Victor watched him try to thrust back on the trio of fingers stuck inside him. He slipped one of them out to play with the prostate again, taking him to the edge and then taking the touch away.

The sounds his lover made were coiling in his groin but he wouldn’t let it hurry him. Drinking in the pleasure he was giving, the sight of what it was doing to the beautiful body in his bed, he waited. Only when the hot lust banked into something he might be able to control did he finally move to mate him.

Even then, he toyed with the man, rubbing the dripping head of his cock against the loosened opening, letting him feel the pre-cum slick him more.

He was used to Tony’s habit of urging him to hurry and he had ignored all of his heated demands until they turned into breathless pleas and the gentle sounds of drifting pleasure.

Victor settled over him, lips brushing up the edge of his ear as he rumbled a soft purr. When he finally pushed in, slow and smooth, and began to fill him, Tony gasped.

Long before Victor allowed himself to come, he had reached under the sweating body in his hold and let his fingertips play with the leaking head of Tony’s sweet cock. Feeling him writhe under him took his breath away.

“Yer all I want,” he whispered into the soft dark hair. “Yer mine…”

*****************************************************************

Drowning in sensation and starving for it to be just like this, Tony was trying to hold at bay the nagging worry that he was probably confusing the feral – trying ... and largely failing.

_I keep telling him light and fun, no strings, is what we need to be and then I pull him into this over and over. He knows it, too – and he knows I do need this. More troubling is the fact that he obviously does, too. Truth is, if he didn’t, it wouldn’t be what I need. But he’s maybe being sincere, isn’t he? While I’m blatantly using him. I’m just making another mess ... a likely dangerous mess._

“Tony…”

Turning his head accept it, the soft lips kissed his, breathing his name into his mouth before the kiss destroyed him. He tried not to think, to just feel.

Wordless and gasping, the feral came again and it wasn’t even the third time. Tony didn’t care about taking turns as he lay under that stunning strength. He only wanted to feel the hard cock enter his body and use it, fill it, transform it – into something that wasn’t broken.

Victor shifted slightly to hold his weight off on forearms instead of hands, and the hot soft fur and flesh settled over his back like an embrace as the thrusts began again.

 _I can’t pretend there might not be a fix for my problem – so what’s the harm in staying? Take this…_ “Do it again, I know you can,” he whispered, but he was still amazed when it did happen again. Then Victor withdrew, pulling him up, intending to roll him to his back. “No, don’t stop yet.”

Nuzzling and kissing lips soothed him but he couldn’t struggle against that strength – he didn’t want to. Victor moved him, put his hands under Tony’s knees, and pulled his legs up over the thick thighs. He was propped on his back on a slanting mound of pillows and as he remembered the time in front of the fireplace in his house, he sighed.

Fingers slicked him more with care and his cock twitched on his stomach. This was another pause to slow him down, to hold him off. He couldn’t care – it felt too good. Opening his eyes, he watched the feral watch him as the fingers toyed with him, pulling a groan from him.

“Come on,” he murmured weakly. “Again.”

He felt like he wouldn’t be able to breathe until Victor was inside him. When it started, he strove to feel everything. Then those thick fingers wrapped around his straining cock and he almost choked.

“Yer so beautiful,” came the low purring whisper over him.

Huffing short breaths as the fingers stroked up the shaft agonizingly slowly, Tony grimaced when he felt the feral’s magnificent cock nearly pull free of his body.

He gasped out, “Victor … oh my god, don’t stop.”

“Hush, now … I got ya.”

Tony watched, stunned, as the long back bowed almost double to reach, the mouth with the spikes and fangs leaning down, barbed tongue burning a path. Hot and wet, that mouth claimed his cock and sucked so lightly that his body shuddered and stretched up to push it deeper.

“Oh, shit … you have a rubber spine…”

Backing off it, Victor used his hand again as the claws there popped and slid out long. Their eyes met and Tony barely managed to nod – accepting the careful prick of the lethal shining tips. They pressed in a little more than expected and pain flashed over the fog of pleasure, jolting it. He saw a few beads of scarlet well up all along his shaft seconds before the mouth came down, swallowed it deep into that throat, and sucked hard.

Teeth clenched on a scream, his body jerked as it was stabbed roughly in shallow sharp jabs by the heavy cockhead still buried inside. He had no hope of withstanding it and came in an instant, fighting to thrust short and almost violently into that tight hot throat. The scream escaped as his orgasm strangled him – and then everything tilted and went black.

~ ~ ~

Tony came to with a jolt that set his heart rate into a tailspin until he got his bearings and realized he was alive. A wave of dizziness washed through him and he grabbed onto the heavy furry arm in front of his chest to stop the sensation of spinning. A shot of embarrassment over passing out with an irritation chaser over feeling embarrassed finally allowed him to speak. He was aiming for a lame compliment – but it came out all wrong.

“You’re bad for my reputation as a fast-moving lothario, you realize. That is my thing – it works for me.” He untangled himself to lie on his back. Finally daring to look over, he saw Victor’s soft expression get wiped away by the slightest hint of a wince. Stifling a sigh, Tony tried again. “That was meant as encouragement – you have some habit-inducing talents.”

“Why’s a one night stand with a stranger yer maybe never gonna see again yer ‘thing’? What’s tha appeal o’ that?”

Tony snorted and smiled. “You can’t possibly have gotten to nearly 150 years old, with your ... habits ... without ever having a one night stand with a stranger.”

“Done it lots. Askin’ what tha appeal is fer ya.”

“It’s ... efficient, like I said. I get a need met and then it’s done and I can get back to what I do. If I wasn’t a hedonist, I’d be a monk.”

“Fair ‘nuff,” the feral muttered, glancing away. “I get it.”

“Why are you asking that?”

“Usually, I do it cuz runnin’ int’ somebody who wants me t’ fuck ‘em twice is kinda rare.”

“I can’t understand that, unless you ignored their consent. Otherwise, you’re too talented and entertaining in bed to only want it once. That bending in half thing, busy both ends at once – wow.” Victor didn’t answer, but Tony pressed. “Why did you ask me about the appeal of one night stands?”

“Some o’ ‘em ... I’d wanna keep. If’n I gotta choice in tha sitch.”

“Oh.” _Well, damn. Gift horse, mouth._ On impulse, he moved closer and nudged his companion into gathering him in his arms again.

Ignoring thoughts about mine fields and noose wrapping, he lay in a warm embrace with afterglow still numbing his fears and tried to make sense of how he was feeling.

_This isn’t what I want, long-term – but apparently I can’t have what I want. I keep bungling things. I don’t even know if … I have a future. The current test is not ideal, but it’s holding; it might buy me time. Geez... Time for what?_

He stared at the heavy layered muscle of the forearm that held him close, felt the rise and fall of the barrel chest he was almost lying on as the feral breathed.

_I don’t want to cross wires, here – but what’s the point of buying more time if I spend it alone in a crowd, unable to connect with anyone because they’ll find out the truth? I needed this. I … do … need this._

“Tony, I know ya want Pepper,” Victor whispered. “Sooner or later, one o’ ya’s gonna figure it out. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

_He’s already giving up. He’s done that a lot, at least around me, always expecting me to toss him out on his ass. Even then he keeps trying, though. Maybe I don’t need to worry about it, maybe – I need to take what’s offered, as long as we’re clear on what that is ... or try to be._

The feral’s whisper made him hold his breath as a fang that had once been broken to save his life brushed his ear. “Don’t got nothin’ t’ fear from me. Oughta know that by now, huh?”

Tony swallowed hard. “Common sense says to worry about you. You’re the troll under the bridge, right? But my gut keeps saying that’s bullshit.”

“Maybe yer gut’s smarter’n yer head just now.”

“Yeah,” he whispered, and tried to smile. “Maybe.” _He can smell my fear but he can’t always interpret it. Neither can I, sometimes._ Finally, tucking his myriad fears behind yet another mask, Tony managed that smile. After that, the next dice roll was easier. “Do you want to keep me?”

“Not in a jar or nothin’ but ... it wouldn’t suck...”

Chuckling, Tony snuggled into him more. “You’re adorable. Relax, Mufasa. I’m on board with making this a thing, if you are, until such time as I catch Miss Potts. I haven’t had much interest in anyone else. So ... we can figure out a way to make friends with benefits work, as long as that’s where it stays – and on the down-low, like it or not. A challenge … but – I love challenges.”

The purring rumbled to a shaky start overhead and Tony let himself reach boneless levels of relaxation as sleep crept closer. He felt like a twisted rag but the feral was close, watching over him – and that made all the difference.

Pleasure that was physical but not sexual slowly spread through him. Coiling and warm, it was patiently building to nowhere, to no urgent need at all. He couldn’t stop the wet cluster of tears in his lashes over how it made him feel.

_I’m not alone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> “Sentada” is Spanish for “sitting”, another move in an Argentine Tango when the partner leading the dance has their partner “sit” on their thigh. It is one of the more sexy moves of the dance, and I’m using it as imagery for the sexual and sensual parts or “moves” of this chapter. In general, Victor and Tony are doing their own tango as they navigate this odd relationship they keep adding to. A tango can be very sensual while being performed by dancers with no sexual relationship at all. It could also be seen as a way to seduce someone.
> 
> Victor’s term “Crawfish Tango” refers to going back on a bet in a way that has to be done as a delicate dance to pull it off while not jeopardizing his professional reputation. I had fun with the imagery of a tango in this story, with the intricate give-and-take of these two very different men. For all the problems they have to contend with in order to be with each other, the chemistry and attraction they feel can sweep them away. Intense sexual chemistry can and often does happen between people who otherwise should maybe not try to date. Victor wants to keep Tony of course, while Tony continues to think he’s just in it for the great kinky sex – but is he? Perhaps Victor answers a need that Tony can’t acknowledge yet.
> 
> "The Shining" is a book by Stephen King. I snuck in another of Victor’s musical references: "Takin’ Care of Business" is a great song by Bachman-Turner Overdrive (BTO). "José Cuervo" is a Country song released by Shelly West in 1983. Mufasa and Simba from "Lion King" still belong to Disney. Lothario is a character from "Don Quixote" and a tragedy play called "The Fair Penitent" (1703) by Nicholas Rowe. The name became synonymous with a handsome and charming seducer of the love-them-and-leave-them variety. The Sanctuary and Liane and Mya are my inventions, from my story "Redemption". Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm  (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm-blog.tumblr.com)


	3. Arrepentida

The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight  
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time  
I am here still waiting though I still have my doubts  
I am damaged at best, like you’ve already figured out

I’m falling apart, I’m barely breathing  
With a broken heart that’s still beating  
In the pain there is healing  
In your name I find meaning  
So I’m holdin’ on, I’m holdin’ on, I’m holdin’ on  
I’m barely holdin’ on to you

The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head  
I tried my best to be guarded, I’m an open book instead  
I still see your reflection inside of my eyes  
That are looking for a purpose, they’re still looking for life

I’m falling apart, I’m barely breathing  
With a broken heart that’s still beating  
In the pain there is healing  
In your name I find meaning  
So I’m holdin’ on, I’m holdin’ on, I’m holdin’ on  
I’m barely holdin’ on to you

I’m hangin’ on another day  
Just to see what you will throw my way  
And I’m hanging on to the words you say  
You said that I will be okay

The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone  
I may have lost my way now, haven’t forgotten my way home

I’m falling apart, I’m barely breathing  
With a broken heart that’s still beating  
In the pain there is healing  
In your name I find meaning  
So I’m holdin’ on, I’m still holdin’  
I’m holdin’ on, I’m still holdin’  
I’m barely holdin’ on to you

~ Broken (Lifehouse)

*****************************************************************

Victor woke, unsure why. It wasn’t a nightmare; they had never come through if Tony slept beside him.

The arc reactor still whirled, accompanying the irregular heartbeat. He shook his head slightly to clear the fog of tension. He had begun to settle again, when he heard the device falter.

 _What tha hell was that?_ With a sniff, he frowned. _Somethin’ ain’t right..._

Moving without a sound, he slipped out of bed, reached out, and slowly pulled the sheet down away from the man’s chest. The glow of the arc reactor grew brighter, illuminating the bedroom – and then it faltered again.

Victor was familiar with the scarring around it and the smells of palladium, fancy glass, metal, and a mix of components he couldn’t name – but it was different now and the whiff of illness was still there.

Leaning closer over him, undistracted by the man’s heat now, he breathed the scents in deeply as he studied the thing. He touched it often but rarely looked at it for long – staring at it made Tony uncomfortable. With a start, he barely managed not to snarl when he spotted it – strange dark marks in the skin around the metal casing of the device.

_In skin … or in veins? Palladium … housed right in ‘is bloody chest – fuck. It’s poisonin’ ‘is blood, which means it’s gonna damage … a lot._

Backing away, he almost fell into the armchair near the bed. The claws cut their way out of abruptly trembling fingers – impotent and useless for all of his strength and power. He couldn’t fight this enemy.

_Tony wouldn’t lemme help, even if I could. It’s … in ‘im, not somethin’ I can kill. He needs that thing t’ live…_

The thought that dropped into his head nearly made him growl, but he had no idea what else he could do. This was science far beyond his skill set.

_Don’t wake ‘im yet, tha longer sleep keeps ‘im calm tha better, probly._

Rising, he left the bedroom and found Tony’s phone by scent. He plucked it out of the jeans pocket. It wasn’t the same one he’d had in the Arctic Circle but odds were good it was just as secure and he probably wouldn’t be able to get into it.

_Looks like a piece o’ glass with a metal frame – wouldn’t know how t’ hack that t’ save … ‘is life. But tha fuckin’ robot is in there, bet on that shit._

Moving to the kitchen counter where his phone and wallet had been dumped, he set Tony’s phone down and called it, trusting that the inventor wouldn’t hear it. It went to voicemail and the second the tone sounded, he started talking to the thing that ran everything.

“Hey, Skynet, robot – what’s yer fuckin’ name, Jarvis? Talk t’ me, tell me how t’ help Tony. He’s sick, ya know that, I bet. He’s gonna be able t’ hear this message an’ if he’s pissed, I’ll take tha heat. C’mon… I dunno how … t’ help ‘im.”

Nothing answered. Fear rose, making him restless and angry. He needed to be at his mate’s side, to protect him.

 _Shut up, Puss in Boots, this is over our head. Holdin’ ‘is hand ain’t gonna help shit._ Leaning an elbow on the counter, his free hand covered his eyes. His whispering voice started to crack. “He can’t die…”

The call ended and the glass rectangle was still dark; it hadn’t lit up, not even to show the incoming call. Rage tried to save him but despair crept in before it could even spark.

“Tony… Yer young, we’re ‘sposed t’ have time. I know ya don’t care ‘bout me past a bit o’ fun, but I can’t lose ya. Need ya t’ live, even if ya never wanna see me no more.”

A flash of light made him twitch. The alien phone was glowing a soft blue. When his phone rang in his hand, he nearly put a claw through it. The number was unlisted.

“Who is this?”

The voice was odd, mechanically British and clipped. Victor had to remember to breathe.

“This is JARVIS, Mr. Creed – I am flouting a loosely written protocol intended to prevent me from accessing your phone without Mr. Stark’s direct orders to do so. What is happening with him now?”

Without question, Victor jumped in. “He smells sick, it’s palladium poisonin’, an’ now tha device is ... skippin’ or some damn thing. Never heard it do that before, even when it was near drained. Sounds like it’s gonna quit.”

“Are you observing him now?”

“No, I’m in tha kitchen. He’s asleep in tha bedroom – breathin’ is gettin’ a bit short.”

“May I ask how you know that from your present location?”

“I can hear it – like ya dunno that already. What tha hell’s goin’ on with tha tech?”

The machine paused. Victor was about to cuss it out when it began to speak again. “Test 202 will not sustain him. He must return to the workshop lab.”

Swallowing hard, Victor whispered, “Can he make tha flight? I gotta jet.”

“Inadvisable. It would appear the failure of test 202 is imminent and it will not be safe to move him if the problem has advanced that far.”

“So here he stays – make up yer damn mind. Gonna get ‘round t’ tellin’ me how t’ help ‘im?”

“Mr. Creed, I am not inclined to trust you – but the safety of Mr. Stark is paramount.”

“Yeah, it fuckin’ is. Ain’t askin’ ya t’ trust me, don’t care if’n ya do or don’t. Lessen ya can grow arms an’ legs outta that li’l glass box though, yer gonna hafta use me t’ fix ‘im. Those … dark vein marks weren’t there when he got here. Tell me what t’ do.”

“Very well – there is an ingot of palladium in the briefcase suit. I’ve unlocked that compartment. Bring it to him. He will have to change it out with the failing test sample in the reactor’s core.”

“That’s it? No pills, no nothin’?”

“Liquid chlorophyll helps reduce the symptoms. He should avoid excessive activity and be observed closely.”

“Now ya tell me. Excessive activity is why he came here – an’ he got it without ever tellin’ me he shouldn’t. Fuck. If’n he can’t change it out, how do I do it fer ‘im?”

“I am not authorized to give out details on how to open or remove the device.”

“Look, ya glorified Etch A Sketch, I ain’t a threat t’ tha man. If’n I was, removin’ it would be ugly easy, capiche?”

“Acknowledged. The information in question is still against protocols I am not able to bypass. I would suggest waking Mr. Stark and apprising him of the danger. He can change out the core samples, preferably before the reactor is compromised.”

“Fine. T’ save ‘im, tha bloody thing that’s poisonin’ ‘im has t’ be allowed t’ damage ‘im more. Ya smart fuckers are dumb as toast sometimes, ya know that? Fuck this, gotta get back t’ ‘im. How will I know when tha test one fails?”

“It will be obvious.”

“Great,” he responded, half snarling the word. He hung up on the creepy thing and set the phone down.

Standing over the red and gold case full of folded suit in the living room, he found the thick card of palladium by scent and grabbed it in a fist from the little open compartment.

_That’s why tha smell o’ tha device was weird; he’s got somethin’ else plugged in there. Palladium scent is lingerin’ cuz o’ tha poison. Damn it, Tony…_

The inventor hadn’t woken up but he didn’t look so peaceful now. Ashen-faced with beading sweat on his brow, he seemed more fragile than ever.

Victor slipped back into bed and pulled him close, nuzzling his hair. The hand not holding the palladium moved to cover the device. “Tony, wake up,” he whispered.

Pretty face frowning, Tony gave a little groan. “If you caught your tenth wind, I officially feel like roadkill.”

“Ya need t’ change out tha core thing in tha device.” He winced as those eyes cracked open into wary dark slits. Opening his palm, he showed him the ingot. “Rip int’ me later, huh? Tha reactor’s skippin’, ‘bout t’ fail.”

Tony struggled to sit up away from him and gasped when the device faltered again. “How do you know that? How did you get that? If you cut into my suit –”

“Didn’t cut it. Please just fix it?”

Tony stared at the thing on his palm. “That’s toxic, if absorbed into the skin... You should only touch the one end.” He appeared dazed.

“Can’t hurt me. Yer 202 one ain’t gonna work. I dunno how t’ open tha thing proper. C’mon, Tony…”

The inventor’s eyes closed and he sagged where he sat. “Test 202. How the hell did you talk to JARVIS? Victor, we had an agreement…”

“Do it now, Tony – or I figure it out myself. Don’t make me hold ya down fer that, cuz I bloody will.” He tried to let the baleful glare that won him wash over him, but it stuck in his ribs like a blade.

He set the ingot against a lump of blanket where the inventor could pick it up safely. Leaving the bed, he claimed the chair to give him space.

Looking away from him, Tony curled forward slightly and lifted nervous fingers to the front of the device.

Slowly realizing he didn’t want him in the room, Victor sighed. He dropped his forehead into his palms and set elbows on knees. Staring at the claws as they cut their way out of his toes, he felt the cuts in fingers as the shining claws emerged – useless.

Tony’s fear scent leaked around them, mixed with both aggression and the abrupt smell of tears as the covering of the device was clicked open.

Victor refused to leave – just in case – but he would give him what privacy he could. Closing his eyes, he listened to the sounds of a very private and stubborn man temporarily fixing his problem. When the sounds stopped, Tony sat there in silence but the song of the reactor and the heart it protected resumed.

“Do ya want me t’ leave?”

The bright voice had turned dull. “It’s your place.”

“Tell me what ya want me t’ do, I’ll do it.”

“So that’s the first time you’ve ever said that, right?” he snapped, his tone bitter. “When do you do what you’re told? Because I haven’t seen that.”

Uncurling to look at him, he winced at the anger in the expression. “Had t’ do somethin’.”

The inventor wilted more and scrubbed his face with his palms. When his hands dropped, he sighed as the aggression leaked away from his posture and scent.

“I know. And I knew. I knew you knew. That’s why … I stayed.”

“Scented ya were sick a while back, wasn’t sure what it was. Knew ya wouldn’t wanna talk ‘bout it.”

“Very perceptive.”

“Tried in Hawaii an’ ya shut me down.”

“If you can’t help, what’s the point of talking about it? I’ve been trying to avoid thinking about it. You’re my ‘stop thinking about it’ distraction. Okay?”

Victor’s head drooped. “Yeah…”

One hand lifted to motion to him. “Come on, come here – don’t leave me alone in this vast mess of a bed. I’m just angry that… I…”

Slowly, Victor rose and almost slunk to his lover’s side, sitting on the edge of the bed away from him.

“Wow, great imitation of a whipped puppy. Look, I didn’t want anyone to know, I was going to solve it on my… I was going to solve it. I thought this time I had, that’s all. I’ll try again.”

When Tony touched him, he lowered his head and wouldn’t look at him but allowed himself to be tugged closer. Fingers lifted his chin and then the shock of Tony’s mouth on his stunned him. Foreheads pressed together afterward, Victor shivered at the memory of ghosts and how he had lost them all.

Leaning back to look at him, Tony put his hand on Victor’s knee. “So talk to me, tell me how you did it? Conspiring with JARVIS?”

“Called an’ talked t’ yer phone, message is on there. It called me back. I didn’t cut yer suit, it opened that part – said t’ wake ya t’ swap ‘em.”

“JARVIS isn’t supposed to be able to call you without me knowing. That’s to protect you, by the way.”

“It said ya wrote a loose protocol,” he muttered.

“Geez ... okay, yeah; I wrote it under the influence. Forget to cross one T and look what happens.”

“Don’t matter. Had t’ –”

“This goes down as another crawfish, sorry to say – we did have an agreement when I discovered your bank ties, about not snooping in each other’s tech. But –” He held up a finger to stop Victor’s protest. “But … you have now saved my life, again, and that can be called probable cause. Now, I should go home and keep testing solutions while I still can, but I’m not up to flying yet, so maybe after more sleep and breakfast.”

“Lemme fly ya home.”

“Not feasible – people keep tabs on me too much. The palladium will get me there.”

“Tony,” he muttered, “how rough we get, coulda snuffed ya if’n yer heart gave out. Why didn’t ya tell me it was this bad?”

“Why would I?”

The sharp tone lashed him, shamed him for reasons he didn’t understand. Victor bent forward, arms folded over Tony’s crossed legs. He hid his face in his hair to escape the scorn in those beautiful eyes.

“Hey, ah … hmm.” Hesitant fingers touched his back, brushed through the long hackles as they wilted in defeat. “Victor … we’re two very different people who got thrown together by an insane situation. We like sharing sex, but … we’re not really friends, are we? We don’t hang out.”

Victor rose to sit up, watched him in silence a moment, and then stood. “Ya wanna hide bein’ with me like a dirty secret – so hangin’ out ain’t exactly on tha menu, is it?”

“That used to be a mutually understood problem. I seem to recall a blowjob in a women’s toilet stall where you needed to pretend we were enemies in public, too. You had a ‘rep to protect’. So it isn’t just on me – you can’t be seen with me socially either. We have privacy at my house and your bank building suites, but we don’t meet up to play backgammon.”

“Yer just pissed I broke the no snoop rule. Or are ya tryin’ t’ die? Should I quit fuckin’ up by savin’ yer ass?”

“I don’t need a babysitter. I wanted a rough fuck and you’re good for that. We play to our strengths.”

Eyes narrowing, Victor tried to huff his growing anger out on a short breath. “Not interested in killin’ ya in bed or out. Ya harp on that consent shit but have ya ever heard o’ knowin’ yer limits? Folks with a heart condition maybe shouldn’t get on this ride.”

“Cute,” the inventor retorted with a frown. “I love when people call me weak, really, it’s fun.”

Tony’s scent was changing again, aggression pushing out the fear of his illness. It ran a chill through Victor’s veins and doused his anger.

_He’d rather crash an’ burn than admit he’s spiralin’ outta control – sounds familiar. ‘Course, I did ask fer help, eventually – an’ got tortured fer it. Guess we got our reasons fer keepin’ that shit t’ ourselves. Fuckin’ fix it, asshole, before he tries t’ limp home._

Tony was still frowning at him. “Dead silence isn’t helping here, you know that, right? Pick words, say them. It’s called talking – or in your case, it’s called pissing me off.”

Frustration at his own confusion over how to express what he meant erupted as an instinctual growl. It made the man lean back a bit.

“Victor, damn it...”

Struggling not to bare teeth at him, he pushed out the first words he found. “Not a fuckin’ weak bone in yer body, flyboy. Ain’t a nick in yer machismo t’ give a damn ‘bout yer limits. Self-care’s a thing.”

“Really? Interesting advice. You don’t at all appear to be the self-reflection type.”

“Guess I ain’t, most days. Keep gettin’ told I oughta try it, though.”

“Okay, here’s the thing. Non-objectionable scenario: you could have simply woken me up. Then I’d ask you to fetch the case and I’d fix it myself.”

Shoulders slumping as he turned away, Victor headed for the door. “Ya need t’ eat.”

“Are you walking out on this conversation?”

Victor didn’t turn back. “What convo? Yer turn t’ pick a fight? Startin’ t’ see why most o’ yer friends’re made o’ tin. Gonna make ya eggs. Ain’t got no grass t’ toss on ‘em, though. After that, ya need t’ sleep more – yer words. Stay in bed – nap out. I’ll bring it in. If’n ya dunno how t’ give a fuck ‘bout yerself, I do – like it or not.”

*****************************************************************

Tony stretched out on the pillows as the mutant took the tray and left the bedroom. Food helped – and so had the dark green glass of liquid chlorophyll that neither of them commented on.

_The concierge and kitchen staff in these buildings must be something else. So why didn’t he just have them bring up eggs, too? He cooked for me instead. Odd. Wow – I want to throttle JARVIS for helping save my life. This is probably a sign of nearing rock bottom. I keep butting heads with my host, too – we don’t fit on the same porch very well if we aren’t screwing. Friends with benefits? Maybe the benefits are all we have between us._

He tried to fight it off but sleep won. When he finally came to again, there was a bright glow behind the thick curtains across the room. The feral was asleep curled loosely near the edge of the vast bed. It took only moments of being watched for those amber eyes to slide open.

“I’m going to shower, solo, preferably,” he told him. “Get some more Zs – I probably will, too.” Turning away, he went to the bathroom and tried not to stare at the giant tub. _How did this go downhill so fast? We were fine before. I could do without him treating me like a frail girlfriend. Huh – ‘frail’ is what he calls women half the time, as a casual insult. What a guy._

Tony was almost done with the shower by the time he stopped feeling irritated. He couldn’t pretend he didn’t know why Victor behaved the way he did. The few things the feral had admitted about his childhood in Canada painted an ugly picture. Certainly the idea of playing tough and uncaring to hide the hurt within was as familiar a mask as the one he stepped out of the shower and stared at on his own face.

_He doesn’t behave uncaring to me half the time, though – he acts more like… Well, how he looks at me, I’d give a fortune to have Pepper look at me like that, but that’s only one of our problems. So what is it – ingrained misogyny and learned behavior? That bullshit claim he made on the Chinese fishing boat, that only the weak scream? JARVIS found me footage of Victor screaming during torture. He’s playing tough guy … and he feels more for me than I want him to. For the rest, I shouldn’t have reamed him for worrying, let alone for trying to help. He’s never tried to slice me, he fought off that ‘kill it to keep it’ baser instinct – and only bites if I ask._

Drying off, he almost tucked a towel around his waist but then decided not to bother. Taking stock of his general condition, he realized he still felt too sluggish to fly.

_More sleep, and then home for more testing. Joy. I wish the Monaco trip was sooner._

The moment he left the bathroom and saw the mutant on the bed, he stopped. Victor had apparently gotten up to toss a clean comforter over the messy rumpled sheets before going back to sleep. He didn’t look peaceful. Tony froze and watched him, having endured enough horrid PTSD nightmares to recognize someone else in the throes of one.

No words were formed. He bared his teeth and snarled in his sleep, the claws threatening to shred the bedclothes.

Not sure why he dared to approach, Tony witnessed a strange but marked change in the mutant’s expression and movements. The closer he got, the more Victor seemed to settle. Glancing down at his chest, he gave a soft sigh.

_Pepper, Rhodey, Happy, definitely JARVIS – they’d all call me crazy. The sound of it soothes him. Okay, here goes._

Moving around to the other side of the bed, he got up on it as carefully as he could. Before he even settled in, the amber eyes with narrow black slits for pupils had snapped open and were watching him.

“You were dreaming – nightmare is my guess, I’m familiar with the look from the inside. Hey – I’m sorry. I’ve been on edge a lot. I needed someone; you were the only one I could risk this with … since you already knew.”

He could swear he was being stared at by the beast for those first few moments. Once Victor shook his head slightly, the eyes appeared to focus more and then intelligence – and hurt – was shining in them.

“Ah … did you hear any of that?” The brief nod did little to reassure him. “Good. Come on, move in here. I appreciate the clean blanket, but I’ll be cold without the heater.”

The mutant’s voice was a rusty rasp as if he had to remember how to speak. “Want me t’ scrape tha carcass clean first?”

“I’ll live. You smell all sexy musky – it’s not a bad thing.” With an invitation, the blond moved close and gathered him into those thick furry arms. “I keep almost asking JARVIS to do things. I’m not used to not being home – anymore.”

“If’n ya need jack all, tell me. Don’t care what.”

“Sleep, mostly. I haven’t done much of that lately. I … probably don’t need to be back until this afternoon.”

Victor didn’t answer but Tony couldn’t worry about it. He knew he was safe in the grip of a terrifying person and it felt good to know that – even if they’d ended up sniping at each other to sort it out. He fell asleep to the deep thrum of the feral’s purr, confident that the arc reactor would help him rest better, too.

~ ~ ~

When Tony woke in the quiet bedroom, he was surprised to see a weak light glowing through the thin gap in the curtains. It was probably a lot later than he’d intended to sleep.

He was still in the warmth of Victor’s embrace and abruptly realized he didn’t want that to stop. Home meant the workshop, the tests … watching the hologram of himself die. It also meant pretending for Pepper and anyone else that everything was fine.

 _Lying to Pepper, that’s what it is, and it’s exhausting – no matter how used to it I am, since … birth. If I can’t fix this … I have to make sure she’ll be okay. So many things need to be secured, protected. The company, the … the everything. I don’t have an heir._ That ugly thought dropped like a lead weight and churned in his stomach.

Soft lips brushed over his brow and he managed not to flinch. He’d thought the mutant was still asleep.

“Whatever’s eatin’ at ya, if’n ya don’t wanna say, it’s fine – but if I can help, I’m willin’.”

Loneliness opened him up, hollowed him out. At that moment, he couldn’t have said what was worse – the emptiness he’d endured his entire life or the creeping fear of death.

Turning away from all of it, he shifted in the feral’s embrace and brought his hands up to hold the sides of his face. Watching the black pupils open wider, he stroked the sideburns with his thumbs.

“I change my mind a lot – ‘impulsive’ should’ve been my middle name. You may as well get used to it if you plan to stick around.”

Tony began to kiss him and he could feel the massive creature melt against him. In that instant, he craved it – all of it. He forced himself to break the kiss. He had to be clear.

“We need certain boundaries; you know that, I know that. This has to be kept as secret as we can manage. Obviously, Pepper and your pilot know too much by far but I can trust Pepper’s discretion and I assume you trust anyone on your end that knows.”

Victor nuzzled his hair before he nodded. That open soft expression was smoothing the planes of his normally frowning and glaring face. Tony’s stomach flipped at the understanding of what that was. Fingers holding that furry face, he made Victor meet his gaze.

“Don’t go all _Unchained Melody_ on me. You said you understand that I want Pepper – I do. This is about needing…” He couldn’t even say it. _It’s awful to do this, it has to be._ Pepper had said so and even when his brain didn’t see the simple easy things, she always knew and she was always right about them. _So why can’t she see through my pretend bullshit when a serial killer mutant can?_

The purr had sparked but quickly guttered out. When the mutant spoke, it was barely a rasped whisper. “It’s ‘bout needin’ touch … comfort. It’s usin’ pleasure t’ push back tha dark an’ tha pain – tha fear. Said I was willin’, don’t hafta fret ‘bout nothin’.”

Tony’s thumbs stroked up the long bottom fangs and he watched Victor’s eyes close, heard his breath catch.

“I shouldn’t do this. You shouldn’t want me. I’m using you, it isn’t right.”

Lying closer than ever while watching Victor’s face, he sucked in his breath sharply when he saw those strange cat eyes open. The amber gleamed in the dim light, sparkling like cabochon gems with what he belatedly realized were unshed tears. The black pupil slits moved, widening to ovals to take in more light.

 _The eyes are windows to the soul…_ He brushed away the random flotsam thought. Whatever soul was being laid bare to him, he was too obtuse to read whatever it was trying to say. “I’m sorry…” It was all he could do to whisper it.

“Don’t…” Victor broke the stare and his hold to nuzzle him again. “Don’t never be sorry.” When those eyes met his again, the wet sheen was gone. “I’m where I wanna be, Tony. An’ ya?”

“I’m … where I need to be,” he murmured, repeating the words the feral had said to him in Hawaii – when he had come to him to be punished for not fixing … everything. This now was different – he felt raw and empty. “I need to … not think about it a little longer. I don’t want to think at all.”

The deep guttural sound that rumbled from the feral’s chest and throat turned Tony to mush. “Shh… Lemme have ya. I got ya…”

Tony couldn’t speak after that for a long time. He relaxed and gave his body over, letting Victor suck him and opening to let him fuck him, gasping softly at how it felt as it went on and on. His skin was buzzing in no time and it was putting to shame the paltry escape of alcohol. Now and then, he almost blacked out as he came and felt Victor fill him as it happened.

~ ~ ~

He rose up back into consciousness to the feeling of a cock pushing back into his body. The craving for it hadn’t waned.

“That feels good … you feel so damn good,” he whispered.

Vaguely aware that Victor had been edging him as he thrust as gently as he could, Tony allowed himself to just drift in it. There was none of the teasing urgent desperation of the other times he’d endured this, and he couldn’t try to urge it to an end as he was tugged back into that haze of lazy pleasure.

As Victor left his body limp and weak in the moments after they had both come again, he moved down it to lie between his legs and sucked his cock into that mouth – this time returning to slow and gentle suckling and winding strokes of the long tongue that seemed to go on forever.

It wasn’t going to happen, though. “You’ve drained the tap,” he muttered, slurring the words a little. Victor wasn’t stopping. “I can’t…” Almost before the words were muttered in a daze, he felt pleasure begin to build again. “How … oh, fuck…”

Tony sucked in a breath and held it as the sensation was drawn out. He felt exhausted yet live-wire focused until it sharpened into a quietly blooming orgasm that peaked fast and then faded into a hyper-sensitive white-hot pleasure. His cum barely spilled, gentle and slow, like translucent thin milk. The feral swallowed it all and licked him clean before rising to lie down beside him, pulling him close. Tony lifted trembling fingers to feel the muscles of the throat. Shocked, he relaxed in the feral’s embrace and let the afterglow melt him.

“How?” he whispered, as Victor kissed his hair.

“Hush,” the low voice admonished softly, “just feel it.”

He wanted to protest but he felt too muzzy and warm. Once the thrumming purr started over his head, he was soothed into sleep within moments and everything drifted away.

~ ~ ~

Tony woke to the smell of citrus and before he had even opened his eyes, a soft orange slice was pressed to his lips. Without question, he let the feral feed him and then looked up to see him leaning on an elbow holding a small bowl of the slices. His blond hair was a mess in the braided bun but the smile was almost shy and actually reached the amber eyes. As he watched them, he saw the black pupils widen in the dim bedroom.

_He’s feeling shy after all that? I should really get out of here before I manage to screw things up again – provided I can actually walk to leave. What the hell did he do to me...?_

“Feel rested now? Ya can sleep more if’n ya need it.”

“Maybe – after you feed me more fruit.”

Eating several of the sweet juicy slices, he smiled to see the mutant eating them by popping them behind the fangs.

“You don’t plan to tell me how you did that to me, do you?” Victor was quiet at first and Tony let him take his time. It seemed to help and rushing him before hadn’t helped at all. _I suppose if I’d grown up locked in a cellar, treated like a rabid animal, I’d have grown up laconic, too._

“Called edgin’, already told ya that. Get ya in erotic limbo a while, keep it feelin’ good but not too good, stretch it out. Fer tha rest, ya can orgasm without really comin’, just gotta hold it off an’ tease it.”

“It was … something else.” He left the last orange slice for Victor and snuggled into the pillows again to sleep more. The mutant put the bowl on the nightstand with the lube and drew him in. That purr was something else, too. “You have a talent for making my brain shut up,” he murmured, already slipping away.

“Likewise,” came the purring response in his ear. If he said anything after that, Tony never heard it.

*****************************************************************

Watching from the bathroom doorway as Tony woke, Victor leaned against the doorframe with fingers tucked in the pockets of new black jeans. He had spent most of the shower coming to grips with how things were going to go, both for this tryst and any future ones. Without the healing factor, he’d probably have a splitting headache.

_Tony wants Pepper an’ she def wants ‘im, way ‘er scent lit up like Christmas any time tha man came near ‘er. While they’re stumblin’ ‘round that, I managed t’ carve a slice fer me. He calls me addictin’ after all; gonna hold ‘im t’ that friends with bennies shit, too. Ain’t no way that woman can yank tha corn cob outta ‘er ass quick like, seems like a habit t’ keep it shoved up tight t’ me. I can operate in that gray area, no prob. Gotta be li’l hunks o’ ‘is comp’ny, though – he’s made it clear he ain’t interested in bein’ mine fer good._

He didn’t miss the look of relief Tony quickly tried to wipe off his face when he noticed the damp towel over furry shoulders and the attempt at clothes on his body.

The inventor looked away, scrubbed his face in his hands, and then tried and failed to smile. “A shower sounds good. Again.”

“Ya shower more’n me – probly a new record.” _Gonna hafta swallow tha surly instinct shit when he needs t’ bail. Might could get ‘im back sooner next time if’n I do. Fuck – this touchy-feely crap’s a confusin’ pain in my furry ass. One thing I do know – humans as a mated pair don’t often last long. If’n they fig it out an’ later crash an’ burn, I’ll just make damn sure I’m tha one pickin’ up tha pieces._

“You got a head start this round, huh?” Tony stared down at the reactor in his chest.

“Figured ya were ‘bout spent fer any more fun an’ games. Hungry?”

“No, I’m fine – better, I suppose I should say. I need to go.”

“Feel up t’ flyin’?” Victor restrained the knowing smile as his lover’s shoulders slumped.

Tony sighed, a defeated sound. “I don’t think so. Can I change my mind again?”

“Not botherin’ me none – already called Zane.”

“Him again. Fun. Did he escape from a bad 70s porno before or after joining your PR team?”

Victor chuckled. “Told ‘im t’ behave; that bit o’ campaign stumpin’ in my honor durin’ our last flight was freelance.”

“You overheard all that, huh? So he’s your wingman in all senses of the term. Damn good flyer, I’ll give him that.”

“Tha best I ever found. It’s dark out – good fer down-low taxi services.” He used the towel on his hair again before tossing it on the bathroom floor. “If’n ya wanna shower this minute, tha hot water recovers damn quick ‘round here.”

“Good thing. How adept are you at discretion in transit?”

Victor let the sharp smile stretch wide. “We’re pros with crazy resources – don’t worry yer pretty ass ‘bout that. I can have clothes yer size brought up if’n ya’d rather not rock tha walk o’ shame look.”

“Actually, it would be suspicious if I didn’t. Coming home clean might be suspect, even.”

“Yer call.”

The inventor got out of bed reluctantly to head for the bathroom. He paused a moment with a hand flat on Victor’s abruptly fluttering stomach before passing him to enter. It was as good as a thank you and he’d take it.

He tackled brushing out and braiding his hair to the tune of Tony showering. Imagining it wasn’t going to help him avoid tossing the man back onto the bed, so he set his efforts on how to get him home incognito instead.

Out in the living room of the suite, he heard the single sharp knock of the runner delivering his rush requests. Beyond a quick wary sniff, he ignored the sounds of a key and the door opening. The delivery made, the man left again and locked the door.

Grabbing his phone from the dresser where he’d left it, he called Zane again. “Hey – one more detail ‘sides playin’ dress up – get a fake Stark Industries logo on tha jet. Easy peasy, right? Far as tha question o’ LAX or ‘is own comp’ny tarmac goes, that’s up t’ ‘im. Right. We probly won’t be long.”

Victor went out of the bedroom to get some prep work done. As ideas popped into his head, he started to smirk.

~ ~ ~

Tony emerged wrapped and draped in two huge white towels by the time Victor was done with prep and digging into a drawer full of t-shirts.

Plucking out options, Victor held them up to show him. “Sex Pistols or Van Halen?”

With a small smirk, Tony nodded at the black shirt. “God Save the Queen.”

Dropping the other one back in and shutting the drawer, he hauled the vintage punk shirt on over his head and plucked the braid out of it.

“Sure ya don’t wanna wear one o’ mine?” His wink won him a real smile.

“Still not your girlfriend – and I’d trip over the hem.”

“Fetchin’ yer shame walk duds, got it.”

He gathered the clothes and shoes that had been shed in an eager-to-mate rush and set them on the foot of the rumpled bed. If he had planned to stay here longer, he would have given orders not to clean the place up just yet. Flying Tony home was better. He didn’t care about the risks.

“Yer Stark flightline or LAX, by tha by?”

“LAX, you can’t land at Stark.”

Tony began to dress quickly. The strange marks around the arc reactor were still there and he grabbed the t-shirt first to hide them before stepping into his skivvies and jeans and pulling them up. He didn’t fully face Victor until Black Sabbath’s _Paranoid_ artwork hid his chest.

“Ain’t gotta be ashamed o’ that.”

“I ... guess not – around you, anyway.”

 _He needs t’ unclench. Time fer a diff’rent kinda poke, then._ “This tha last I’m gonna see o’ ya fer a year or what?”

Tony sighed and Victor watched as the ready-made speech popping into his head, possibly another lecture, began to puff out his chest. Then their eyes met after Tony took in his expression and body language. Not seeing even a hint of the combative sneering sarcasm he had expected to find, the puff wilted.

“Resigned and making jokes instead of angry and bitter? I’ll take it.”

“Not really much o’ a joke, but yeah – ease tha asshole pucker back down t’ maybe five? We got us an understandin’, huh?”

“I honestly can’t tell when you’re kidding or not.” He sat to put on socks and tennis shoes. “I’m not actually trying to jerk you around like a fickle … well, whatever you’d call it – but don’t. I’d rather not hear what you’d call it.” Straightening up, he stood. “It’s not a plan, is my point.”

Victor shrugged. “Ya need somebody here an’ there an’ can’t go t’ just anybody – ain’t an all-fired mystery. Don’t mind bein’ tha one ya go t’, any road. Happens that yer so self-sufficient I get blue balls waitin’ fer ya t’ need squat.”

“I doubt if I’m the lone number in your little black book.”

“Quality over quantity is key.”

Tossing him another wink, he turned and walked into the living room of the suite. Properly goaded but not yet shedding the scent of anxiety, Tony followed. His next question was a surprise.

“Victor, I’m just going to ask straight up; is Hank McCoy right about your healing factor not being … ah … transferrable?”

“He ain’t wrong, put it that way.” Victor faced him as he settled a hip on the back of the couch. “Asswipes tryin’ t’ clone me never got real far – it don’t take. With tha right hoodoo, they can make a decent copy o’ most folks but mine tend t’ not outlast a limited warranty an’ they ain’t never that strong. Healin’ factor’s fer shit in ‘em. Dunno why.”

Letting out a breath, Tony leaned his back against a wall and crossed his arms. “Science at large thinks it isn’t anywhere close to cloning humans, mutant or not, so who are these hoodoo people?”

“Yer better off not knowin’.” He picked up the braid and began to lace it through his fingers. “Don’t want ya mixed up in that shit.”

“I see. Mutants only, huh? Yet I’ve noticed your saliva seems fairly talented at stopping any bleeding unusually fast.”

“Maybe so but if that was a cure-all, McCoy woulda had me lickin’ more stuff. He preferred my tongue rolled up in general.”

“I see his point.”

Victor looked up at him as his fingers stilled. “Tony, I ain’t holdin’ out on ya. If’n I could give ya some o’ tha good juice, I would; told ya I’d help ya however ya needed. McCoy did ‘is level best t’ fig it out in tha time he had me, better’n ya or me could do – an’ he wasn’t tha only one that tried. Still stands t’ reason that if’n it was somethin’ I could pass on – ‘sides maybe genetically, dunno ‘bout that – I probly wouldn’t be standin’ here now.”

“Why not? To the standing here, thing.”

“Cuz I’d be starin’ out from inside a Mason jar on some lab quack’s shelf.”

“Hank wouldn’t –”

“That blue simian do-gooder’s too busy trippin’ over ‘is own morals t’ be in tha same league as tha Dr. Hyde freaks I run int’.” He tossed the braid behind his shoulder. “They don’t care one wit fer yer ‘ask first’ bullshit – not that yer sainted McCoy gave a damn ‘bout it, neither, come t’ that. Fact is, without a healin’ factor, most o’ me would resemble a shoddily laid out railyard.”

Fingers lifted reflexively to his scalp just behind the hairline. With a short chuffing growl at himself, he forced the hand to drop to his thigh. Stifling a shudder wasn’t managed as well as he’d hoped. Pushing away the memory of how it had felt to have his skull opened and the pieces set aside, he leveled a heavy stare at his mate.

When Tony’s eyes went wide, the mouth opening in shock, Victor knew he was finally catching up.

“Okay, I understand. Illegal exploratory surgery, above and beyond the Weapon X program and Xavier trying out brainwashing... Geez, I’m starting to see why you balk and scoff at my consent lessons.”

“Glad we’re on tha same damn page fer once.”

“Yeah … and I’m sorry.”

“Ain’t yer fault – ‘sides tha bloody yo-yoin’, ya treat me better’n most.”

“As long as we’re sharing, I’ll admit that some things you do go beyond what my morals can condone. It’s one of the reasons for the yo-yo behavior – thanks for soft-pedaling that one – and sometimes wanting to be around you means turning a blind eye, maybe more than I should. That’s a choice I make and I’ll own it, but it’s … difficult.”

“Yup, I figured that out. Every story’s got more’n one side, though.”

“I doubt if you want me to start listing things.”

“Nope, I don’t – but if’n yer only gettin’ yer intel from tha likes o’ Nick Fury or tha X-freaks, that’s some heavy bias right there.”

“I imagine; I do try to take that into account but really ignorance as bliss can work wonders.” Tony’s arms dropped as he glanced around the suite again. “Where did my case go?”

Victor snorted as he stood. “Don’t notice much, do ya? It’s in that box by tha door. Figged ya wouldn’t wanna fly home.”

Tony went to look and stared down at the box. It was covered by logos for a brand of toilet paper and taped up with duct tape.

“Charmin?”

“Ain’t nobody guessin’ an Iron Man suit’s wadded up in that. Jet’s gotta john, needs t’ stock up sometime.”

“Wow. I take back any doubts I had that you know what you’re doing.”

Chuckling, Victor sat on one end of the couch and stomped into his boots. “There’s a hoodie on tha back o’ a kitchen chair – pull that on an’ take tha elevator outside up t’ tha roof. Helipad’s up there. Zane’ll fly ya t’ my jet.”

Tony fetched the hoodie and pulled it on, setting the hood over his hair. “I like this part – it hides the fact that my hair looks like hell, at least.”

“Naw, ya look good ‘nuff t’ eat.” Victor smirked at his surprise.

“What if I’m recognized by someone?”

“Keep yer head down. Any o’ my folks’ll think yer my latest hustler toy, rented an’ paid.”

“Lovely.”

“Gets tha job done.”

“Hustlers or your plan?”

“Both. I’m takin’ a car. Off ya go, see ya on tha jet. When ya get t’ tha airport, ya can ditch tha hoodie. Gonna see why. I’ll lug tha TP.”

Tony shook his head as he went out the door. As soon as he left, Victor got up and grabbed a black windbreaker with a white Stark Industries logo out of a closet. Tearing the drycleaners plastic off and dropping it, he hauled it on over his t-shirt, leaving the braid hidden.

Popping a black ball cap over his hair and eartips, he smirked as he hoisted up the Charmin box under one arm. Once the elevator sounded, heading back down, he left the suite and caught it, hitting the button for the garage.

~ ~ ~

As planned, Zane had flown Tony around the long way. By the time they boarded the jet, Victor was already on it, lounging in a front aisle seat. The pilot was grinning from ear to ear behind their illustrious cargo. Dressed in his purloined Stark Industries windbreaker, a match to Victor’s, he sidestepped around the shocked inventor to sit up front and start flipping switches.

Tony stopped in front of Victor, fingers tap-tapping on his jeans. It was one of his nervous tells. “I don’t want to know, do I?”

Victor rose. “Probly not. C’mon, Mr. Stark – gotta private cabin fer nappin’ tha whole way.”

He was still in the hoodie but stripped it off as he followed Victor into the small cabin, tossing it on the armchair by the bed. “You barely fit in here.”

“It’s just fer sleepin’ which I mostly do in a chair out there anyhow.”

“So why have it?”

“Fer tha shower, I guess – ‘specially after a job.”

“Another thing I probably don’t want to know details about.”

Victor’s eyebrow arched. “Yer welcome fer this favor, Vic – that’s what ya meant t’ say.”

Tony ran fingers through his hair – another tell – and sighed. “Right. Exactly.”

“If’n ya want it t’ yerself, I can go back up front.” He thumbed at the closed cabin door.

“No, too keyed up to sleep and I’d rather have your company. I’ll ... drop it.”

Victor didn’t comment further on the man’s urge to be offended by imagining what he used the jet for. He was used to morbid fascination reactions from the few who ever made it this far and lived to tell the tale.

He watched as Tony claimed one side of the bed, away from the wall, notably without removing clothes or shoes. Patting the wall behind him, he gave one of his pretty but plastic smiles.

“Left you a spot. Do your nuzzle thing, I’ve gotten so used to it ... it’s sort of soothing.”

Taking the invitation on surface value, Victor slotted in behind him and pulled him close. The bed was barely bigger than he was and it took up most of the cabin.

“This reminds me of the cargo plane rendezvous in the Arctic. That was originally intended as a farewell/thank you encounter. Turns out, you’re more addicting than I anticipated.”

Nuzzling as requested, Victor murmured, “I aim t’ please.” He ran the tip of his tongue up the outer shell of Tony’s ear. When the man’s whole body shivered and relaxed against him, a sharp smile stretched wide, unseen. “Wanna sleep?”

“It’s not that long a flight. Talk to me.”

Victor went still with lips feathering the soft hair behind the ear. Requests like that, from anyone he actually liked, tended to lock him up. He knew his silence irritated the man but that only drew the knot in his head tighter.

“Okay, Chatty Cathy, I’ll start things off – with one question.”

The amusement and patience in his tone sparked a muffled short laugh from Victor. As much as he wasn’t fond of being grilled for information, answering questions was easier than trying to figure out what to say.

“Here it comes,” he muttered into Tony’s hair, more relieved than he’d want to admit.

“Only one! Tell me something no one alive knows.”

Victor scratched at a sideburn. The first thing that popped up was good enough – after all, Tony had said it fascinated him.

“When yer in tha electric chair an’ stuff starts t’ sizzle, tha cotton they used t’ shove up tha ass gets real hot. Fuckin’ weird.”

“Ah... What?”

“Ya asked.”

“Cotton. Up the ... hmm. Do they still do that?”

“Dunno, ain’t ridden tha lightnin’ since they traded tha chair fer a needle in most burgs.”

“Wow.”

“Yup.”

“So you took the criteria of my question to a giddy level of literal. Do over – I was aiming for historical anecdotes.”

“Gimme somethin’ more specific.”

“Jimmy Hoffa?”

“It wasn’t me.”

Tony dissolved into laughter and Victor chuckled.

“I imagine no one can say getting you to talk is easy but once managed, it’s never boring.”

“Sometimes folks wish I’d shut tha fuck up. Depends.”

“So why do you clam up around me so much?”

Victor hesitated a moment before deciding to roll the dice on the truth. “Ya can make me nervous ‘bout fuckin’ up.”

Tony’s scent warmed at that and though he couldn’t see it, he knew the man was smiling for real. “Well ditto for me on that. Ask me something – that’s how this works.”

“Naw, anythin’ worth askin’, I’m too stupid t’ understand ya. Ain’t gotta dictionary in here.”

The inventor turned his head to look at him but Victor glanced away at the ceiling.

“You aren’t stupid, Victor. Maybe you can’t do trigonometry equations in your head – unless you can...?”

“Nope, not on paper or a calculator, neither.”

“But that isn’t the definition of intelligence. I’d love to test your IQ – I bet you’d be surprised.”

That sparked a purr. “Lemme take ya huntin’ first.”

Tony turned onto his back and smiled up at him. “That’s just an attempt to ditch the topic.”

“Not really – it’s tha best way t’ show off what smarts I do got.”

Tony chuckled. “I could listen to you talk for hours. See? You’re an interesting person. Stupid is boring. However, the great outdoors isn’t my scene, if you recall.”

Victor licked his tongue over his teeth, catching the whiff of lust from his lover as he did it. “Toss me a science-shit voicemail t’ keep me warm when ya disappear fer months.”

“You got it.”

Tony accepted his kiss and let him turn it into a lazy exploration, until a hand started to slide down the man’s clothes. Gentle fingers moved to grip the thick wrist and stopped it.

“Victor, I want things to be clear between us, so I’m going to ask: what did you mean about us having an understanding?”

“Ya were onboard with tha friends with bennies thing – gonna change yer mind on that?”

“No – no, I meant that.”

“Even after ya sort shit out an’ get better?”

“Yes – until I figure out how to woo the girl of my dreams.”

“Fine then – got us an understandin’.”

Tony ran a fingertip up a smooth lower fang. “Uh-huh…”

When Victor leaned in for another kiss, he smiled at the purr that rumbled up as their lips met.

Victor felt the fingers release him and he worked swiftly to get that hand inside Tony’s jeans. Gripping the hardening cock and working it slowly, he watched his face as the kisses failed and his lover’s body writhed in his embrace.

“You’re going to make me pop like a freshman,” he muttered, heated and breathless. “Is this to make my walk-of-shame clothes more authentic?”

“Maybe…” Victor sucked in a breath. “Fuck, yer pretty when yer just ‘bout t’ shoot.”

Tony seemed unable to answer and within a few strokes, Victor caught most of the sweet pearly cum in his hand and pulled it free. They both watched it drip from his fist before their eyes met. Victor opened his hand and swiped his tongue up it, swallowing down what he got.

“Damn,” Tony whispered. Sitting up slightly, the inventor gripped the wrist again, pulling it down.

Victor knew he could feel the heavy cock hardening where it was pressing against his thigh.

Flicking his tongue out, Tony licked the droplets that were left, tracing them around the side of his open hand. “Those jeans are kind of tight – does that thing hurt, trapped in there?”

“Tony…”

Victor forgot to breathe when the man rose up and made him lie on his back with a mere look. Tony straddled his thighs and sat on them, his hands covering and kneading the denim over the bulge.

He hadn’t tucked his spent cock away and Victor didn’t know how to stop staring at it, at those skilled hands or at the beautiful eyes staring down at him full of warmth.

“Call me Anthony,” his mate whispered.

It was quite a while before he could obey. Victor got lost in the pleasure given to him, in the feel of that hot mouth that made him come so easily without the need for pain. When the frustration of wanting to roll to his belly and give his body to him was wiped away by the soft lips swallowing his seed before they kissed hot touches up his stomach and chest, he lay limp in surrender. Accepting a sweet and salty kiss, he licked the taste of himself right out of Tony’s mouth.

“Anthony,” he breathed against the cheek that was laid against his. Whispering into the ear at his lips, he almost begged, “Lemme say it…”

Tony’s head turned and lifted to kiss him silent, to keep it inside. It was all the answer he would give.

~ ~ ~

Lying quiet and warm with Tony’s weight on him, Victor breathed in the scent of sex around them as the man slept. Their jeans were still rumpled and open but he resisted the temptation to wake him for more.

At the first slight tilt of the craft around them, he gently circled an arm around his back to steady him. The inventor was out so solid, he didn’t wake until the landing gear began to touch down.

Neither of them spoke as the jet slowly taxied to a stop, and then they sat up and put things away. Sitting side by side on the bed, Tony’s head drooped slightly.

“Can’t be helped,” Victor muttered to him, hands lax in his lap. “As I’m often told, ya gotta get t’ it before ya can get through it.”

Tony took a deep breath and reached over to lace their fingers together for just a momentary squeeze before he let go and stood. He moved to the door and turned the handle to open it, staring down at his hand on the shining steel.

“With everything I’ve ever heard or read about you, not one of those reports or witness accounts said you could be kind. I’m glad that I know it.”

Stunned, Victor remained seated until Tony left, leaving the door open. Hearing him speak to Zane, he hauled himself up and went out. To his surprise, Tony had picked up his coat that had been abandoned on a chair when they’d arrived in Phoenix.

“This thing is a trip, you know that, right? It’s longer than you are tall. Bespoke, therefore über custom – why is it drag-the-ground length?”

Victor shrugged. “Looks badass, freaks folks out. Also, doubles as a blanket in a pinch – even used it as cover an’ as a scent decoy more’n once.”

Tony nodded, smiling. “I have a photo or two of you in it. Impressive.” He folded it over the back of a seat with care.

Zane headed for the stairs and opened them up. “The car’s coming in to drive you home, Mr. Stark.” They both watched as he picked up the Charmin box from between the front rows of seats.

The inventor smiled at the pilot’s wink. “Thanks.”

“Sure thing, chief.” He went down the stairs with the box and disappeared.

Tony snorted. “He’s enjoying this game a bit too much.”

Victor kept his distance, sensing the shift in Tony’s scent and mood. The mask was sliding down. “So what’re ya gonna do now, t’ fix yer prob?”

“Try more element combinations. Clearly I need more focus and less distraction.”

“Less distraction would probly mean ditchin’ tha expo plans – an’ Monaco.”

“You’re still my favorite stalker.”

“I bet. Better be yer one an’ only.”

“The rest are just paparazzi, these days – and leave them be, please.”

“Yer no fun.”

Tony gave him an odd searching look before it was wiped away by his trademark fake smile. “Maybe we’ll plan a meet down the road at another of your bank suites, somewhere new – for kicks.”

“Like tha great Mae West said it, ‘Come up an’ see me sometime.’ I’ll buy a backgammon set just fer ya.”

“I mean it – and thanks, for … everything. I’ll call – or you can, you actually remember to. Don’t eat too many billy goats Gruff while you do … whatever you’re doing next.”

“Just gonna be hard at work, same as ya. Bet we’ll both end up killin’ some assholes that deserve it. Yer good at it – seen all tha footage on CNN.”

Tony dodged the dig smoothly. “You should come to the Stark Expo. We won’t be able to meet up there, but you like tech toys – you’d probably get a kick out of it.”

“Maybe I will.” He watched as Tony gave the wall at the stairs a pat, shot him another plastic smile, and went down out of sight.

He didn’t go to the door but sat in his favorite window seat to watch as the Charmin box was loaded into the trunk of a black limo. The driver worked for him and was a skilled fellow who could be trusted to handle this discreetly.

Tony didn’t look back at the jet as he climbed into the car. The driver shut the door for him and gave a salute to Zane just before he drove away.

The pilot popped his head back in from the open stairs. “We heading out straight away, Boss?”

Victor sighed. “Yup. Don’t even remember what job’s next.”

“We have Costa Rica and Cuba; want me to flip a coin for the first stop?”

“Costa Rica. Ya can take tha Stark shit offa tha jet there with li’l notice by pryin’ eyes. After Cuba, I wanna hit Haiti fer fun before we jump tha pond again.”

“Got it. Wheels up in no time.”

Settling in, he closed his eyes and muttered, “No rest fer tha wicked.”

*****************************************************************

Tony sighed and scrubbed his face with his hands as he leaned back in his desk chair. The holographic failure of test 332 reverted back to the starting point on the command of JARVIS after Tony had remained silent.

Glancing over at the kitchen/bar and the bottles waiting there, he resisted the urge to sink into them and finished off the latest tall glass of chlorophyll goop instead. The aftertaste was awful and the gassy discomfort was an insult.

“Are you ready to select another combination for test 333, sir?”

Setting the glass down with a dull thunk, he watched the remaining dark green residue slide to the bottom. Frowning, he reached for his phone on the desk instead.

“I need a mini-break.”

The AI’s silence felt like judgement but he ignored it. One speed dial button away was a talented distraction.

Victor’s phone was answered but the mutant didn’t immediately speak. When he did, he sounded distracted himself. There was an excess of noise on the line he couldn’t pin down.

“Tony – ya need somethin’?”

“I need – to hear a friendly non-ball-busting voice.”

Victor’s snort of amusement made him smile. “Fire tha ginger an’ gimme ‘er job – only ball-bustin’ ya’d have would be from comin’ yer brains out all day an’ all night.”

“I’d get nothing done and my company’s stocks would plummet. Besides, you already said no to being my new masseuse. What are you doing? Wait, no, scratch that – I shouldn’t know that.”

“Drivin’ at tha moment, nothin’ nefarious – but gonna hafta bail in a minute. Busy, busy.”

“On a phone while driving – bad boy.”

“I’m in tha backseat, flyboy. Ya hard at work?”

“In both senses of the phrase. Where are you?”

“Trinidad, leavin’ Iglesia de la Santísima now on tha way t’ a job.”

Tony translated ‘Church of the Most Holy’ in his head and smirked. “Did you stop for confession?”

“On a Monday night?” He could hear Victor chuckle. “Just wanted t’ see tha new buildin’.”

Tony tapped at his keyboard one-handed for a second and glanced at the information he found. “New? It was rebuilt in 1926.”

“Yeah, well, tha church bell is left over from tha former one an’ it’s nearly older’n me. I’m an architecture buff an’ Late Gothic/Spanish Revival mixed with Neo-Gothic gives me wood.”

“Learn something new every day, huh?”

“Yup – I’m a deeper fella’n most are aware.”

“I’m figuring that out. Is this the first job since I saw you or have you come out from under your bridge often to harass various new billy goats Gruff?”

“Often – they taste like chicken. Don’t get yer knickers twisted, ya wouldn’t miss any o’ ‘em.”

“Glad to hear it. Do you have an opinion on the Boy Scouts of America?”

“Now that’s pretty fuckin’ random. What’s up?”

“Nothing, never mind – considering donating is all.”

“Don’t they try t’ get city boys out in tha woods t’ learn survival stuff? I can get behind that. Maybe ya should join.”

“Ha ha – really, forget it.”

“Tony, listen – I gotta bail, duty calls. I’ll text ya later?”

“Sure … okay. Ah, thanks – it’s good to hear you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” the mutant replied, his deep voice thrumming with the undercurrent of a purr.

Tony sat in the chair and shivered at the sound of hunger in that voice. If the feral had shown up on his doorstep, testing would have been done for the day.

He put the phone down and tapped a quick reply to an email he’d started hours before to the Los Angeles Area Council of the Boy Scouts of America. Beneath his response, the incredulous questions about his offer began to swim in his vision: Are you sure? Is this really THE Tony Stark?

Hitting send, he rose fast, the motion rolling the chair backward. He wouldn’t be able to hide what he’d just done from Pepper. “I need a drink.”

“Sir –” JARVIS piped up.

Tony interrupted, “One for the nerves – before we watch my hologram die a few more hundred times. Not interested in a discussion about it.”

Pouring scotch into a glass, he leaned against the sink edge as the memory of Victor in bed made his breath catch.

“JARVIS, go ahead and bust my balls again – tell me I can’t ask Victor to fly here … right now…”

“The testing is to save your life, sir. Distractions won’t accomplish that.”

Downing the drink in two swallows, he set the glass in the sink. “Test 333. Got it. Thanks. This sucks so much.”

~ ~ ~

Hours after a hurried dinner eaten while standing at the table – a ball of nervous energy and dead-eyed exhaustion at once, Tony got back down to the workshop without talking to Pepper much. She wasn’t going home for the night yet and she probably thought he was acting strangely, more than usual. He couldn’t avoid her forever.

 _I could just tell her… No, no – bad idea. Not now. Not … not here. Where? Ever? Can’t I just fix it and never need to tell her? Sounds like a better plan. I like it._ Avoiding the desk and the work, he collapsed on the couch. _She’s in that gray ruffled-back blazer with the black leggings and stilettos. Black top … or is the whole black thing a one-piece deal like a cat suit? It needs to be a cat suit. One button closure knows all…_

His thoughts went south along with most of the blood his brain needed to function. Studying the erection in his jeans like a problem to solve, he cursed under his breath when he heard Pepper coming down the stairs. She was holding a tablet. One quick glance at the small frown on her pretty face proved he was right – she was worried and she would ask him what was wrong.

In an abrupt irrational panic, he snatched his phone from his pocket and opened up his jeans. It wasn’t difficult to fish out an effective topic changer. Just as she entered her code and came in to see him there, he aimed the camera in the phone and took a picture of his painfully hard dick.

“Tony! What the…?” She whirled to turn her back, a beautiful flush lighting up the freckles on her cheeks.

He struck out for an attempt at casual but got pretty close. “I’ll just be a minute; I have to finish sexting to my sociopathic mutant assassin stalker.”

“Why on earth?”

“In person, he has a habit of treating me like a post-coital toy mouse stuffed with catnip. I figured, long distance, he might miss me. This will cheer him up.”

“There are no words.”

“I hope he reciprocates in kind – I may need to invent a larger phone screen to see it all at once, though.”

“Really?” She sighed in exasperation.

“Absolutely. Let’s just say it’s ... proportionate. Which satisfies my –”

“Oh my god, seriously?”

“– sense of engineering design.” He smirked. “Among other things...”

“I’m going.”

Tony chuckled and put things away, wishing he could have seen her face for all of that. “Okay, come back, it’s safe. What am I signing?”

Irritated, she handed him the tablet and stylus. He didn’t listen to her explanation and didn’t read it before signing with a brief flourish.

 _Something about a military plane, a flyby drop, and the expo…? Doesn’t matter. Focus._ “All done. Thanks.”

“I don’t want to know,” she muttered under her breath. The blush was gorgeous – and a real feat, as she almost never blushed.

Tony watched her escape up the stairs through the glass. Her long legs and perfect feet disappeared last as he tried not to feel the riot of things that were tangling him up at once. He had to get back to testing samples; there was no time to waste on screaming fears – or anything else.

Yet it was getting harder not to think about all the ways the poison would destroy him, would destroy his mind. The horror of that threatened to send him right into a bottle. Every test that failed had driven him to try again … in the beginning. Now, after so many failures, hope was brittle and fading fast. Anger and exhaustion of mind and spirit chased each other through his slowly failing body.

Letting out a sigh, he turned away from the empty stairs. “I can crawl into a bottle and never come out, go out in a blaze of glory – or I can…” His voice faded to a whisper and then faltered into silence.

He had gotten a custom F1 race suit made for Monaco just in case ‘blaze of glory’ was the option he jumped for. Pepper would be outraged, so he simply hadn’t told her about it – like the Boy Scouts getting the art collection … and everything else.

_Why not blaze of glory, really? If I’m going to die, I should drive for that race… How damaged will the brain be by then? Not enough to make a difference, it’s coming up soon._

The phone he’d set on his thigh gave a short buzz. On the screen, a typically brief text from Victor waited: Sorry to bail on you, call when I can.

A smile twitched at one corner of his mouth as he realized he had read it in the clipped Canadian mountain man accent. He always did.

“How messed up am I?” he muttered. “The brightest moment of my day has been a less than ten minute chat with the Thing That Goes Bump in the Night.”

Impulsively switching to his photos, he looked at the new one he had never meant to take – it had just been an abrupt attempt to ruffle Pepper, to get her off the scent of how not okay he looked.

“Well, that part of me looks just fine.”

He admired the photo – the lighting was perfect. A smile finally crept back onto his face as he imagined the mutant’s reaction. With a snort of amusement, he gleefully hit Send.

**FINI.**

(Sabretooth will return in _After Midnight_.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Arrepentida means repentant, to change one’s mind. In a tango, it is a family of steps which allow a couple to back away from a collision or traffic jam in a minimal amount of space and on short notice. This is symbolic of the touch and go and hesitant indecision of Tony and Victor’s relationship. To some extent, it works for Tony and Pepper, too. The song "Unchained Melody" is by the Righteous Brothers, another of Tony’s musical reference quips to keep Victor at arm’s length, emotionally.
> 
> In Iron Man 2 prior to Monaco, Tony’s blood toxicity level is 24% and in the deleted scene in the workshop (prior to Pepper arguing about the art collection he donated to the Boy Scouts of America) Tony is seen doing the 486th test for a palladium core replacement. I wanted to explore that heartbreaking and awful testing process in this story to give it more attention than it receives in the movie. I chose 202 and 333 as test numbers to show that he has tried so many times already, yet has so many more to endure. Thanks for reading! - AnonGrimm (@MET_Fic) (anongrimm-blog.tumblr.com)


End file.
